Destitution
by zana16
Summary: S1: Locke & Charlie set out on a mission to get a signal from the transceiver, but right from the start things go wrong. After a poison attack and a wild west fight the two team up with Sawyer & Rousseau on a completely new mission. Please R
1. Chapter 1

**LOST Role Playing Game **

Amy is Locke & Danielle  
Zarina is Charlie & Sawyer  
Set right after The Moth; season 1

**Locke starts**

Awoken by the decreasing temperature on the island, Locke tried to cover himself in blankets more firmly, only proving to be useless as the sun had already begun to rise. Slowly sitting up, he stretched to look around his surroundings, hearing nothing apart from soft breathing and rustling in the jungle ahead of him. Deciding he would walk around the beach before other Islanders awoke, he got up from his makeshift bed, and stretched, catching sight of a figure in the distance, currently just a dark silhouette. His furrowed brow deepened as he tried to establish whom the outline belonged to. Moving forwards, he soon recognised the messy hair and lost look on young Pace's face.

"Charlie, you never struck me as a morning person?"

-----

His eyes nervously shifting over the dark soil under his feet, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped, Charlie slowly dragged himself through the jungle. It was still very early in the morning but every sound on the crowded side of the beach made him feel uncomfortable in more ways than just giving him an intense headache. He felt sick, cranky, and didn't want to be bothered by ignorant people asking dense questions. So instead of spending the early hours shielded of in a makeshift shelter that made him feel locked up, he decided to take his insomnia towards the jungle, where he was now aimlessly wandering around.

His thoughts miles away from the island, the British man didn't see or hear Locke approaching until the man asked him about his sleeping habits. Skittish he took a step backwards, before he realized it was the hunter standing in front of him; one of the only people on the island who knew his secret and the only one right now Charlie didn't mind seeing. John knew what he was going through, the former heroin addict didn't need to pretend or hide anything from him. So instead of mindlessly wandering off again he moved his stare from the grounds of the jungle to the weary face of the hunter.

"I was never much of a sleeper. How about yourself?"

-----

Locke sniffed, smiling and shaking his head, looking at the floor. "Oh, I can fall asleep quickly enough, it's what I see that drives me awake." Locke's face took a more serious shift as he gazed at the younger man, his pain and inner turmoil clear in Locke's eyes. His frame shook softly, not from the soft breeze that was picking up, but from withdrawal symptoms, information Locke was now privy to.

Looking past Charlie, Locke realised it was still rather early in the morning, he could hardly see past Charlies body. A sudden waryness overcame him, and he felt a sudden vulnerabilty without any form of defence. Shaking this for a moment, Locke looked back to Charlie, and shook him with one hand softly, a friendly gesture to get the boys attention; "Something wrong Charlie?"

-----

Charlie heard the regret edging Locke's voice when he so honestly told the reason for being awake. And though for a second the British man felt sorry for the hunter, at the moment he couldn't focus long enough on one thing to let the words clearly sink in. So all he did was nod in agreement, as if he knew what haunted John in his sleep, even though he truly didn't.

A sudden chill ran over his spine and he shivered. Charlie realized it was colder inside the jungle than he had expected it to be. Yes it was early in the morning, and the sun hadn't come out yet let alone pressed his way through the thick roof of leaves, but after days and night of torturing heat logicalness had slipped the former rockgod's mind. Digging his hands deeper inside his pockets Charlie bend his head towards the ground again. As if making himself smaller and nearly invisible would trick the cold to stop seeping through the torn fabric of his clothes. It was a ridiculously naïve thought, but he felt desperate in his needs.

When Locke gently laid his hands on Charlie's shoulders the latter jumped up, as if being caught while doing something forbidden. Hearing the hunter's question he shook his head in reply. Deep inside he knew he didn't have to hide from Locke, but it had become so naturally to do so.

"Nothing's wrong John. Everything's just peachy", he therefore said, eyes staring past Locke's frame instead of straight ahead.

-----

Locke's lips tightened as Charlie deceived himself and Locke. Rubbing his chin, he released Charlie, and took a couple of steps ahead of him, almost as if he was going to abandon him in his hour of need. Relishing the feel of the nipping cold, he walked further into the darkness, without saying a word to Charlie. Unsure whether the boy was tracking Locke's movements, he looked behind him, and turned in a semi circle, the air around him making a swishing noise. "Why lie to me and yourself?" He asked, picking up a stick and leaning against it, half closing his eyes and sighing. One night of relaxion was all Locke had been hoping for on the island - his prayers and wishes gone unanswered. Images of being abandoned by those he loved swamped his mind and plagued his vision.

-----

Charlie nervously watched how Locke walked away from him without saying another word. He knew it was his own bloody fault for bluntly lying to the man's face. Everything wasn't peachy; it hadn't been for a long time. Not for him, and from the few small glimpses he had had inside Locke's life it surely hadn't been for the other man either.

With letting the hunter get close to him Charlie's life had turned upside down and that scared every bone in his body. From the comfort and reliableness of the heroin he had gone into the depths of insecurity. Part of him was screaming of confusion and anger for what the change had brought to him, the other part wanted to cling to all-knowing Locke. How mysterious and unpredictable he sometimes may seem if there was one person Charlie trusted his life with it was the hunter. The same man who was now walking away from him, abandoning him in the shadows of the trees.

But he didn't disappear. Before the man was completely out of sight he turned around and asked Charlie why he was lying. A long moment of silence followed in which the former rockgod did try to answer Locke. But the problem was that he didn't know the answer himself. "I.. I don't know", he finally said defeated.

-----

Charlie's answer was understandable, his natural reaction in his state was to create a shell, a bubble of his world, cacooning himself in this false pretence that this pain he felt would lessen, and leave him alone. So when Locke said this, it was with the hope that it would drive Charlie into a more conscious state of mind; "Well you need to start giving answers Charlie, you can't go through life fobbing people off with the "I don't knows". I know what you're going through it hard, but if you give up, you'll end up dead. Have you ever read "A waking slumber" Charlie?" Hoping to bring culture into his conversation with Charlie, Locke's plan was to regale him with stories of similar situations. The boy had to know he would never be alone - humanity was shrouded with deceit and lies --What Charlie had to realise was that he would never be the only one to walk this path of pain.

-----

For a moment Charlie's eyes narrowed and his face turned into a malicious expression. Locke's accusation sounded indignant and the former heroin addict didn't appreciate being talked to in that way; as if he was a little kid getting told off by a parent. He knew he should be grateful for all that the hunter has done for him, but right now he couldn't. There was this foolish thought lingering in the back of his mind of how he was, correction, "is", a rockgod, and no-one could tell him what to do or what to say. Luckily for Locke, when he mentioned the book, curiosity took over Charlie's mind instead of anger and frustration. He still had an undoubtfully fate in the hunter and admired him for his knowledge. Part of which he wanted to absorb so he could maybe, one day, use it himself. So instead of snapping something in the older man's direction and walking off, his voice stayed rather calm. "No I don't. Why?"

-----

Locke smiled and gestured Charlie to sit next to him, and he dropped to the floor in an unattractive manner. "A Waking Slumber, Charlie - is an English book believe it or not. It focuses in the 1960's around a group of people who take ecstacy pills. When one of them dies, and one more is comatosed, Laura, perhaps the most sensible but naive one - gives up drugs. The audience sees her struggle through London as a recovering addict; she believes everybody is out to get her. In the end she loses the use of her legs in a car crash she was involved in..."

Locke coughed uncomfortably, rubbing his legs subconsiously - breaking eye contact with Charlie. "And the only time this girl felt any peace was with a homeless man named Michael. He seemed so insignificant, but made such a difference. My point is Charlie, it's the things you overlook that make the difference in your life, in your recovery."

-----

Never being much of a reader, except for his own vaguely poetic words and song texts, didn't mean Charlie wasn't interested in the reason for Locke to bring up that specific book. It always seemed as if the hunter's words had a deeper and much more important meaning, one that didn't become clear until hours or days later. The significant comparisement with his situation before and a simple moth being the latest example for the British man. Plumping down on the somewhat wet soil opposite Locke Charlie listened to the words escaping the older man's mouth. Resting his head on his pulled up knees he remained quiet during the man's speech. He heard the obvious relation of his own situation with the one described in the book. A British person getting on drugs, something important changes in her life that makes her give up the addiction and a struggling follows; just like Charlie was struggling now. But it was the last sentence that confused Charlie to no end.

"It's the things you overlook that make the difference in your life, in your recovery."

It was one of those typical vague Locke comments that made no sense yet, but, Charlie was sure of it, the solution would come to the surface some day. It was just not of much help right now. The thing was, he wanted to feel the solution to his problems straight away, the impatience taking over. So trying to get some more loose from Locke he said, "So you're saying...?"

-----

Locke smiled and brought his hand to his chin, scratching absent-mindedly. What the boy lacked, was patience. All addicts of some sort lacked it - thats why giving in seemed so easy for them. Looking at Charlie, his smile stretched his skin further.

"Maybe I should leave you to find this out yourself. What I can tell you Charlie, is to not take the world for granted. All people in your position do..."

Lost in thought a moment, Locke broke eye contact with the recovering addict, and stared at the green foliage in front of him. Here he was, advising Charlie what and what not to do, when he himself had not even begun to face up to his demons yet. How could he tell this boy to help himself, when Locke was shredded inside, unwilling to help himself, or let others do it in turn. Shaking his head, he stood up, groaning from his aching muscles;

"Maybe a walk would clear your mind? Help you see things better? I know a fair trail not too far from here?"

----

_"What I can tell you Charlie, is to not take the world for granted. All people in your position do..."_

Another vague comment, that didn't help Charlie at all, followed with what sounded like a mocking sneer. Once more he felt like Locke was attacking him in some way and he felt like playing out his usual act of furious slash arrogant rockgod, so he could, after snapping some harsh words in the other man's, just leave this place and continue his quest by himself. But a split second before the British man could bring his body to stand up from the cold soil he realized that maybe that was exactly what the hunter was telling him.

Before his brains had more time to process the information Locke suggested a walk to clear his mind. Briefly looking up to the older man, who was now standing in front of him, he saw a frown covering most of the man's forehead. One that didn't necessarily made him looker wiser or older, but more so as if he was the one badly needing the stroll through the quiet shadows of the jungle. The anger boiled up inside of him still there, Charlie knew it wasn't wise to open his mouth and direct his frustrations towards the wrong person, so all he did was nod in agreement.

Placing his hands next to his body he slowly pushed himself up until he faced John Locke. Rubbing off the dirt that had attached itself to his sweaty hands on his already in mud-covered jeans he followed the hunter without saying word. His body in the same somewhat slumped down position as before he slandered through the jungle, his shoes dragging over the ground, his feet kicking up the dirt and leaves in his way.

-----

Feeling rather drained already, Locke half regretted his proposal of a walk through the jungle. However, not wanting to come across as indecisive, he took off at a brisk pace through the green, pausing only to check that Charlie was keeping up. This morning had been one of awkward feeling and atmosphere. Though the junkie felt like he had nothing to share with Locke; they really were not that different. Everybody on the planet had their differences, but they all came back to being human, with the same problems as the Joe across the street. Charlie was not the only one who had suffered a form of loss - people like himself had to realize this. "I think there's a pretty nice spot up here. You think you can manage it?"

-----

After hearing nothing else but the quiet rustling of the leaves and the fading away sounds of the ocean for such a long time, the numbness in Charlie's body faded into the silence surrounding the two men. Locke's unexpected query in his direction was almost an unwanted disturbance in the air. The former rockgod didn't say anything until the hunter's voice was completely carried away on the same soft wind that every so often made the leaves of the trees move briefly up and down.

His eyes shifting to the place Locke was pointing to Charlie considered the man's words carefully. It wasn't too far off, nor did it seem a very difficult climb. But the fact was that the seemingly brief stroll to the jungle was exhausting the British man. Not that he wanted to admit that in front of John though, but still.

"Yeah", was his short reply, and with that he walked further, indicating that the brief break Locke had taken was clearly over. Now being the one slowly moving in front of the hunter he had to look over his shoulder to see the other man's face. When he did so he continued, "What about that spot anyway? Got any moths to study?" Charlie was trying to make a funny comment, as if what was happening to him wasn't serious, but it didn't sound like a joke at all.

-----

Locke's calm expression soon dropped to one of disbelief at the boy's tone. Sometimes the hunter did feel like The Island was pushing him too far with these tests - he had the patience of a saint, but even they had their moments. His jaw set as he gave Charlie an ice-cold stare - deciding not to dignify him with sarcasm. Striding past him, he focused on a tree in the near distance, using that as a target to put his mind on - never taking his eyes off of it. His nostrils flared as his footsteps grew wider, pushing a strain on his weakened body, still not ready to adapt fully to the day. Once he had reached the tree, he spun around to look at Charlie an uncomfortable distance away from himself - Locke raised his arms in the air and called "Thought you said you could handle the pace?" --- --- And turned around again muttering to himself. "Thought you could handle the God damn pace." Resting against the tree he had made his target, he rubbed his temple and took a deep breath, calming himself and calling to Charlie again; "No moths Charlie. I don't think they're in season anymore..."

-----

Charlie's eyes widened in surprise when he saw Locke's ice-cold stare, clearly directed towards him; they were the only people in the jungle, the others must be miles away by now. He opened his mouth to mumble some sort of excuse, hoping to fix whatever made the hunter's mood and facial expression change so drastically, turn it back to how it had been before. Only some days ago it seemed as if their relationship was much more solid, even though Charlie himself had been more of a helpless mess than he was right now.

The problem was that he didn't have the faintest idea to what he had done wrong. Ever since Locke walked up to him earlier this day there was some friction between them. He hadn't been able to say the right words, do the right things, and that only seemed to make the newly found gap between him and Locke larger. Charlie wanted to change it back, but not knowing how, all he could think of what apologizing for whatever it was that increased the disturbed mood the hunter was in.

But before getting the time to say the useless words Locke had strode straight past him, his pace must be faster than it had been before and Charlie had to move his aching limps harder to keep up with the older man's speed. Quickly out of breath he stopped his fast pace for a moment. Resting the palms of his hands on his knees he took a deep breath; the with oxygen filled air of the jungle improving the capacity of his lunges and the feeling in his body.

Right then Locke's voice rang out again and looking up to the other man Charlie shot him a faint smile. The fact that the man wasn't mocking him for the clear distance between them and how he earlier insisted he could keep up with the pace, might mean that the air between the two of them had calmed. For now. And Charlie didn't want to say anything wrong again to change that mood. Instead he stood up straight and made his way to Locke, who was casually leaning against one of the trees.

"If it isn't moths, what's so special about this place?"

-----

Smiling, Locke's twitched his lips, inhaling the fresh air and exhaling his stress. "Special? This whole Island is special Charlie - but you look to your right and you'll see what I mean." Locke gestured for Charlie to follow him, and led him up a smaller hill - easier to climb than the previous one. Once they had passed through a clearing of shurbbery, a small creek was revealed. This had remained unseen and untouched until about ten days ago, when Locke had stumbled across it on his daily hunt. Since he had found it, Locke had cut bamboo branches down, and constructed seats from it. A small river ran through fertile ground, the two men's reflection quite clear in it. ---- --- "Thought this might cheer you up Charlie." Locke said, looking to the junkie and patting him on the shoulder again, his hand lingering there in a friendly manner. Looking back to the creek, Locke stepped down the hill, and stood by the running water, looking at his mirrored image below. The face that looked back at him was not one of peace - the inner pain seemed to be claiming his flesh, distorting his sweet features. "Maybe we both need cheering up." He murmered, kicking some dirt into the water.

-----

_"This whole Island is special Charlie."  
_  
Locke's reply sounded like a surreal and vague comment. One that Charlie, normally, would make a sarcastic remark about. But not today. Not after deciding to be careful what to say in front of the hunter and not after seeing the breathtaking view revealed behind the last small hill they climbed. The stunningly clear water reflected their images as if it were a mirror and the British man quickly looked away from his own. He knew he felt miserable; every inch of his body aching and craving for drugs, but he didn't want to see it also. The dark circles featured around his eyes, the lifeless gray filter over his face; seeing the obvious facts made him only more depressive and escaping that feeling had been the main reason to leave the beach and ignorant people in their shelters earlier that morning.

Instead he focused on the man besides him. The one that barely audible mumbled his confession. Charlie hadn't been wrong earlier, when coming to the conclusion that Locke wasn't himself today because every single thing that went wrong in front of his eyes made him snap. It wasn't like he was a John Locke expert, knowing how the man would react to a certain situation or what he would say. For all he knew the sad statue standing next to him was the real John, and not the one he had gotten to know these past weeks. But the former rockgod really liked the "old" Locke. Not only had he been a wise example in times of need, and not just for Charlie, but he also just seemed like a fair lad to chat to every so often.

Moving his stare from the hunter towards the scenery across the small creek the former heroin addict softly said, "I know I shouldn't be the one saying this, but is there something bothering you John? You just don't seem like your usual advice giving, boar hunting, knife expert. You know?"

----

The calming wind and creek did not soothe him. The twitter of birds and insects did not alert him. The fresh smell of grass and dew on leaves did not relax him. For the past two days, John Locke had indeed not felt like himself. The Island had given him so much to think about - and he did succumb to his mind. But inside his head were painful images The Island insisted on dragging up. His dreams of Helen and his father were insistant on making his life a mess. Of course, seeing Helen was not a pain - just the way she looked at him; confused and disappointed. Oh that look could kill...

"I'm sorry Charlie. I'm not myself. I am trying to help you - believe me I am. But I'm not a God. I have my problems too - it's just taking a toll on my body today."

Locke raised one eyebrow out of sight. He didn't necessary think of Charlie as naive - but he himself did not think he was acting completely out of character. Sure, he was slightly off colour and quiet, but he had helped Charlie twice this morning. But of course, Charlie was unaware of this - he expected Locke to tell him exactly what to do, and when to do it - he needed to be thoughtful, to analyse what the hunter had told him.

He was quite certain Charlie would realise in a few days that what Locke was trying to tell him about recovery was quite true. But it still didn't take the bitter image of his loved one away.

"...Don't give me that look..." He mumbled, looking at his reflection, momentarily seeing Helen standing over his shoulder.

-----

I am not…", Charlie started to protest, but before finishing his sentence he realized Locke wasn't talking to him, nor was he accusing the British man of looking at him in a certain way. Instead the man seemed to be talking to himself, his piercing eyes staring at his own reflection in the clear water of the small creek in front of them.

"Never mind", he therefore quickly mumbled. Apparently this was one of those moments the hunter needed to himself, and the former rockgod knew he once more almost switched the attention from Locke back to himself. Funny how that goes. Even with the fame and glory of Driveshaft so far behind him he was still continuously seeking for attention; the centre of the spotlight. Even after having a brief moment with honest interest in the other man's life, he almost managed to turn the conversation back to himself.

Hands digging deeper in his pockets Charlie observed the quiet environment surrounding them. The only sounds in the air the soft rippling of the water and the breathing of the two men. The ex-junkie, though usually not a man whose conversations were filled with much else than wisecracks or shallow words, tried to think of something that might clear Locke's head from whatever it was that made him look so hunted. A mission to distract his mind, both their minds actually. The only things the British man knew were right up Locke's alley were tracking wild animals through the shadows of the jungle, practising his knife skills, collecting various exotic fruits from the trees and being a helping hand. Neither of which were really a relaxing past time for both men.

Suddenly a small smile formed around his lips, recalling a conversation between the doctor and Sayid last night. "So John", Charlie started carefully, not wanting to intrude the older man in his thoughts too sudden. "This place looks great and all, but how about we do something more… sufficient?"

Looking aside so he could face Locke, not awaiting a response, he finished "I heard Jack and Sayid talk about sending a help signal. They can't do it from the beach, but it has to be done from a big hill or something. And if there's anyone who would know a hill of just the right seize, it would be you. Wouldn't it?" Eyes casting down on the ground instead of the man next to him, he waited for a reply, knowing very well John Locke couldn't resist an opportunity like this to both execute his tracking skills as well as helping the other survivors.

-----

"Hmm? Hill? Signal?" Locke mused softly, absentmindedly moving his hands to his back pockets to check he hadn't left without his knife. Of course, efficient as John Locke is, his knife sat comfortably against his thigh. Jack seemed so insistent on bringing this once in a lifetime opportunity to a close – him and Sayid scientific as they were, seemed to think up these idea's to get the others off the island – when the Powers that Be clearly didn't want them off the island yet.

However, Locke could not bear another moment of his dull reflection, his phantom love watching him from behind his back, judging, hating. He needed something, anything to take his mind off from these inner demons shredding him up. Locke was meant to be the stronger one's on the Island, and he wouldn't let Charlie down by letting the young man see him like this.

"I mean, sure Charlie – there are plenty of steep hills here, high too – but a signal… I'd need a helping hand Charlie – can you keep up pace?"

Perhaps this question made Charlie seem too weak, but Locke meant no offence – he would have asked anyone else in the situation the same question, but if he wanted to do something efficient, he needed a strong member of the island with him.

"I don't mean that I don't think you can do this Charlie, in fact – you're perfect for this venture, but I need to know if you are able to keep up."

Taking the knife from his pocket, Locke moved it to his eyes, the sun reflecting from the metal, momentarily blinding him.

-------

_Back at the beach_

After reassuring Locke he'd do his best to keep up during their mission it wasn't hard for Charlie to also convince the man that he was the right person to ask Sayid for the transmission device. What he didn't tell the hunter though, was that his plan didn't involve asking the Iraqi for it. Why bother searching for a person to get permission when you can simply sneak into a makeshift shelter and grab the small radio from the top of a pile of airplane junk? It wasn't like the former rockgod was meaning any harm by taking it. After all, he and Locke were going to help Sayid, by finding the right location to set out the help signal. And with that thought he brushed off the guilty feeling running through his head. Slandering back into the shadows of the trees, towards the familiar shape of Locke who was waiting for him not far from the edge of the jungle.

Holding up the small transmission device in the air, an obvious proud smile on the British man's face, he signalled Locke to start walking. Once again the hunter was showing the way through the depths of the jungle and Charlie was the quiet follower, only occasionally looking away from John's back to move aside a branch in his path. But that was all right. They didn't need to make conversation to make the time spend worthwhile, and without the ridiculous fast pace from before he could actually almost the entire time keep up with it.

Tens of minutes past, without them hearing many other noises than the breaking of the twigs and leaves under their feet and the soft whistling of the birds awoken by the early rays of the sun. But with those same beams sparkling through the thick roof of leaves above their heads the temperature even in the darkest shadows of the trees quickly rose to unbearable heights. At least for Charlie it felt that way. Drops of sweat falling from his forehead in front of his feet, he finally shoved the hoodie of his head and looked up to the sky. The sharp rays of light made him narrow his eyes and ascended the heat running through his body.

Looking back over at Locke it seemed as if his companion wasn't bothered by the increased temperature at all, he was still taking firm passes into the direction he was guiding them to and with every step he took he walked further away from the former rockgod, who was not standing still to get a few well-earned seconds of rest.

"Hey John!", he yelled in the direction of the small figure slowly disappearing from his sight. "How about a break to, you know, go over our strategies?"

-----

Unaware that Charlie had failed to keep pace with him, Locke turned around, and slowly jogged back to the boy, sweat beginning to drip down his red race. Looking to the floor he picked up a small shoot, and snapped it in half, soaking his hands in the refreshing liquid it leaked. Moving to Charlie, Locke rubbed the mans face until it had been replenished, and tightened his lips, nodding with satisfaction knowing Charlie would feel better for it.

Still saying nothing, Locke looked to the sky, squinting as he searched the horizon for a suitable hill to try to receive signals from the world outside of the island. He moved forward and stretched out using the tree in front of him, grunting through the heat. Looking back to Charlie, Locke smiled, his face creasing at the boys confusion as to what he had just done; "Aloe juice. Feel better?"

-----

Taken by surprise Charlie didn't protest while Locke adjusted the liquid on his sweaty and heated face. Even after the older man finished his surprising act the remarkable fresh feeling kept existing on his cheeks, slowly descending to the rest of his body. Whatever that stuff was, it worked miracles. Because not only did it give the former rockgod a well needed cool feeling in his limps, it also seemed to give him the strength he needed to face up to the hill they were leading to.

Hearing the explanation the hunter gave for the liquid he used, for a brief moment Charlie became his usual jestering self. "We're getting facial masks? How manly of us John." With a snort of laughter and a renewed energy he followed Locke deeper into the jungle, closer towards their destination.

Once they arrived at the enormous hill, nearly a mountain, in the middle of the jungle, the British man wondered how they were every going to climb that. Even without aching limps and a for heroin craving and weakened body he wouldn't see how he was ever able to reach the top. But still clearly in mind how he promised Locke he was going to be able to keep up, he swallowed his doubts and followed the hunter's footsteps. Literally, grabbing the same roots and branches to hold on to, pressing his black and white checkered Vans into the gaps created by Locke's feet seconds before and listening to the wise advice of not looking down.

Like that they moved slowly to their goal. Inches at a time, carefully placing their feet and grasping plants for stability. Charlie didn't loose his focus until he accidentally placed his foot besides an already created hole and instead of feeling the stability under his feet increase a huge chunk of dirt broke of the side of the hill, tumbling into the space the men came from. Impulsively he looked down, his eyes following the path of the falling earth. With only one of his foot attached to the earth and his body swiftly moving around to watch the rocks and dirt fall underneath him, it became impossible for the few roots in Charlie's hand to keep all of the man's weight. And with three small snapping sounds they broke off, making the ex-junkie watch the trail of the falling dirt far more closer than he wanted to.

-----

Locke had found the hill easy enough, but the climbing would prove to be the hardest part of the journey. The hill, steeper than he had remembered, stood intimidating, birds circling around the middle of the cliffed rock. Looking at Charlie and seeing the uncomfortable look on his face, Locke gave him a reassuring smile, and took first to the bottom of the hill. The pace became much more slow as their track became steep and trickier to climb.

Working the tip of his shoe into the mud, he made small pot holes for Charlie to use, the laboured breaths from behind him was an indication to Locke that he was struggling.

"Don't look down, Charlie." Locke kept muttering, as he himself kept staring at the floor, though only to see what the damage would be if one of them fell. Truthfully, he began to feel uneasier as they progressed up the mountain, the distance between them and the floor growing wider.  
Ten minutes into the climb Locke was lost in thought as he put his mind to the task of getting up the mountain with Charlie unharmed - a sort of parental emotion temporarily taking over his body. As these thoughts swamped into his mind, he heard dirt crumble and instantly looked down to his footing expecting it to give way. Seeing that he was safe, he swung his head around and down to see Charlie dangling from a root on the cliff.

"Hold on!" He shouted, his eyes working frantically to find a way of helping the boy without killing himself. Seeing no way of doing this, he gritted his teeth and instructed;

"Charlie, I'm lowering my left leg. Grab it, and hold on to it, ok? I'm going to try and pull you up that way, to where I'm standing now. You got that Charlie?"

-----

Frantically waving his arms around his flying body more accidentally than purposefully Charlie managed to grab a piece of root sticking out of the side of the hill. Hanging on to the ridiculously thin yet strong plant that was supposed to be his savier, he tried to swing his legs closer to the mountain--only to create another rumble of dirt and small stones down the hill. Being smarter this time he didn't look down, instead his eyes were focussed on the plant he was clinging to.

His sweaty fingers slowly sliding down the single piece of root he looked hopefully up to Locke when the other man started to talk to him. Although "Hold on" seemed liked somewhat of a useless and obvious remark, it did help the former rockgod to regain his slipping focus.

Concentrating on the older man's words he slowly nodded and carefully reached for the leg the hunter had stretched out towards him. The distance was too far and it took all of the power left in Charlie's weakened body to reach closer to the outstretched leg.

Clanching his teeth together he tried to overbridge the last few inches of space between his fingers and the muddy shoe on the hunter's foot. But before he could reach his goal the remaining energy was being drained from his body and his fingers finally slipped from his last chance to remain on the hill.

Arms frantically waving around again, but this time hitting nothing but empty air. No more sounds of rolling dirt to indicate that Charlie had found a safe place on the hill, merely an eerie loud thud when he hit the ground at the bottom of the mountain; head first.

-----

"Charlie! NO!" Locke shouted, losing his head for a fatal split second, and swung the left side of his body to one side, dangling off the cliff now like Charlie had ten seconds a go. He could just make out the boys body lying in an unattractive heap on the dirt floor, no signs of consiousness. Looking to the top of the cliff, he judged it less of a way than back to the bottom, but continued his descent to the bottom never the less.

Stumbled as he did, Locke managed to make it to the floor again with only a couple of minor cuts, and a troubled sensation in his back. Crouching to Charlie, he felt the sweat begin to leak from his pores, wiping it away and putting his hand on Charlie's chest, checking for a heartbeat. Finding a faint one, he smiled in relief, and took his outer shirt off, bunching it up and resting it under the boy's head.

"Charlie. Charlie?" He called, the first time in a soft voice, the next time shouting.

Cursing under his breath, he looked for major wounds; he couldn't see any blood staining Charlie's clothes. Deciding not to move him in case he had (worst case scenario) broken his back. Waiting by his side, Locke called him again, his voice louder;

"Charlie?"

-----

When his skull hit the stone-hard soil of the jungle it brought Charlie to unconscious spheres instantly; Locke's shouts hopelessly lost in the otherwise men-less surroundings. Ignorant to the real world the former rockgod's mind continued to tumble through the sky, even when he was truly 'safely' resting on the ground underneath the mountain he moments before so desperately tried to climb, making the boy's body shake as if he was going through a bad case of fever.

------

John put his hands on Charlie's shoulders and tried to calm his body's spasms. "Charlie, whoah whoah - Hold on. Calm down!" He pleaded, rubbing the sweat from his own face before looking at the wounded man again. "Charlie, come on, you're stronger than this, wake up. Come on." He cursed himself for climbing up the cliff first. Why had he done that? He could have grabbed Charlie if he was below, now it may be too late. Why was the Island doing this to him? Why would it claim Charlie's life when his road to recovery had just begun? Locke slipped his hand behind Charlie's head and felt it was wet, when he took his hand back, crimson had stained his skin. "No. Oh God."

-----

The helpless screams erupting from John Locke finally managed to make their way into Charlie's head. But as he awoke from his unconsciousness state the pain that shot through his body made him easily divert focus from the person next to him to the miserable way he was feeling. Eyes still closed he moaned as with every tiny move he made, even slowly sucking in the clear air of the jungle, the sharp pain running through his body increased.

For a brief moment he had to think hard what happened that had him ending up in some wet pool of mud on the ground, feeling like he'd been run over by a train. But it wasn't long until the hard climb up the mountain and the disastrous fall of it came back to him.

Charlie also realized that someone had been with him during the climb and it that's when he thought of Locke again. His faith in the mysterious hunter restored by the simple lack of anyone else around to help him, he slowly moved his lips in a faint attempt to call the man. But no words came over his lips, merely another barely hearable moan.

-----

"It's ok Charlie, don't talk – Rest. I'm here, I'll do what's best for you." Locke began to soothe the washed up rock god, resting his hand on his head and biting his lip. He slowly and gently lifted Charlie's head again, and sighed at the sight of the blood. Ripping part of his shirt off, he tied it around the boy's head, and tugged, helping trap the blood, praying at the same time the blood didn't clot too badly.

"Ok Charlie, I'm going to move you into a more comfortable place. It's too far to get back to camp right now, I won't be able to carry you, I think I've hurt my leg, but we'll get you somewhere safe, it'll be ok." He assured Charlie, hauling him to his knees, and began to lift him, Charlie's legs and arms meeting around Locke's neck in a position to be carried.

Grunting, Locke began to trek through the jungle, his right legs muscles burning, causing him to bend his legs, losing grip of Charlie for a moment. Again, he faltered, and had to lower him to the floor, propping him against a tree.

He stood above him, and wiped the sweat from his face. What he was going to do now, wasn't clear to him, but the next occurrence would give him some idea of how not to act.

He heard rustling in the trees to his right, and when he looked, he felt something sharp bite into his collarbone. Crying out, he dropped to his knees and searched all directions for the thing that had bitten him. Looking down at his body, he realised it was not an insect, but a tranquiliser.

"Damn." He moaned.

"Do not move." Came a reply, a few feet away from him.

The voice was familiar. It was husky. It was French.

-----

While Locke used all his strength to carry the half-conscious rockgod through the jungle, the latter slowly awoke from his dazed state; the sniping pain through his head no longer the only thing on his mind.

When the hunter put him back on the cold soil of the jungle, he sat reasonably stable against a tree and tried to regain enough strength to go on further on his own feet. Glancing over towards Locke he saw the older man needed a moment to rest and he didn't want to add to the weight on the man's shoulders by being just that; more weight for the hunter to carry.

Thoughts interrupted by a sudden accented voice ringing out towards them, Charlie slowly pulled the transmitter out of his pocket, for a moment thinking the third voice came from there; the sole reason for their trip up the mountain coming back to him. But as his blurry sight started to fade into a more clear vision Charlie realized that this wasn't a fragment of the strange looped message; he saw a real person. Most likely the same one that had sent that very same signal to begin with.

Completing missing the fact she just shot his partner in his leg and was now threatening them instead of trying to be helpful, he shot a faint smile in her direction before turning back to Locke. "I never thought I'd say this again, but I am happy the French are here"

----

Charlie, supposedly unaware of the fact that Danielle was not here to help meant that Locke had to deal with the situation, regardless of the pain in his neck. He went on to all fours and bit his lip through the pain, trying to look at the French woman, only managing to fall back onto the floor.

"I said don't move!" She barked at him, kicking at his head brutally.

With a grunt of pain, Locke went onto his stomach, and cradled his aching head. "Please, wait, don't do this." He whimpered, fearing him and Charlie were beyond help.

"You should not be here. Sayid promised I would not be hurt." She shouted at him.

"We wont... Hurt..."

"Liar!" She screamed again at Locke, circling the two of them. "You are here to hurt me, and this I can not allow. And if you do not stop moving old man, I will not give you the antidote to this."

Her threat struck a cord with Locke, and he turned his head to stare at Charlie. "He's not well. He's bleeding. He needs help, we're not going to harm you."

"You won't be bothering me longer." She whispered, moving to Charlie and kicking him in the ribs, showing unrelentless cruelty and baffling anger.

-----

Helplessly Charlie watched how the person he thought to be their salvation threatened Locke, tortured him even. The former rockgod was too weak to stand up and defend the hunter, so all he could do was watch in horror when Rousseau moved closer to him and unexpectedly kicked him in the ribs. Clutching his stomach he collapsed on the floor; mumbling an inaudible "Bloody French".

"Hey wild chick!", an heavily Texan accented voice suddenly rang out through the jungle. "What the hell are ya doin'?"

The man stepped in vision from behind a tree, revealing himself as the enstranged survivor Sawyer.

The Southerners's fingers embracing the cold metal of a gun aimed at the only woman in their presence, his index finger dangerously close to the trigger. Keeping a steady gaze on the French woman's movements he continued, "Now you step away from Sport over there and I won't have to fire this at you. Got that?"

------

Locke writhed on the floor, gritting his teeth and moaning as the pain in his left shoulder spread to his throat and into his chest. He was barely away of the vaguely familiar southern voice of Sawyer as he threatened this new opposition. He went onto his stomach and rubbed his head still hurting from when he had been kicked. Unsure of what was happening, Locke opened his eyes and looked to his right at Charlie who looked equally hurt.

"Charlie… I'm sorry." He whispered, reaching out for him, his hand dropping to the floor.

Meanwhile, Danielle raised her tranquilliser gun at the new man and let out a low growl;

"I will not accept this. I will kill you all now for your blind stupidity. I warned you never to come near me. You can either leave these two with me, or you will die also.

– She pointed to Locke; "Only I carry the antidote, and only I have the power to heal him. If you do not lower your gun he dies, alongside the other one." She whispered, now looking at Charlie.

"What is the choice to be?"

-----

Still clutching his stomach Charlie rolled onto his side, spitting out some of the dirt that had come into his mouth when collapsing on the ground. "No worries John", he moaned as he shot the hunter a faint smile, "Even you can't stop the bloody French".

Dragging himself back to the tree Locke moved him to before, the former rockgod leant against the bark as he watched in surprise how someone he had least expected it from had come to their aid.

"You warned nobody, you crazy Jane", Sawyer barked in Rousseau's direction. "What the hell you threatening Gandhi over there for? Did he slay the boar that raised you in this friggin' place? You sure seem like you belong here."

His thumb caressing the cold steel in his hands the Southerner listened in horror as Danielle explained the reason for the weird looking fire gun in her hands.

"Antidote? You sonuva… You poisoned them?" Lowering his weapon as requested Sawyer winked in the direction of Locke, before turning his gaze back to Danielle.

"Well you leave me no choice then do ya?", he said with a cheeky smile as he swiftly raised the gun again and fired a shot, perfectly aimed at the French woman's right leg. Hoping that this would cause her to fall and loose grip of the poison she was still holding in her hands.

-----

Danielle felt a searing pain in her leg, and fell roughly on her side, a small crack sounding within her jacket. She reached for her leg and let out a painful cry as blood seeped out of the bullet wound.

"Fool!" She screamed into the jungles walls around her, the birds in the trees all scattering from the noises made.

"Idiots! You idiot! What have you done?" She repeated again and again, possibly losing more sanity as she clutched at her jacket rather than her leg.

"Do you know what you have just done? Do you know? The antidote! You've ruined it!" She yelled again, opening her jacket, and pulling out small shards of glass, the inside fabric of her coat wet.

"It was in my jacket! It was the only one I had left!"

She looked up at Sawyer and gave him the deadliest look of the French; "The last antidote was in my pocket, now it is gone."

Locke looked up and coughed, his throat burning and chest aching. "What?" He whispered, his bottom lip trembling.

"I suggest you pray to your God and quickly." She winced, moving back to her leg and clutching it, trying to lessen the blood flow.

-----

"You bitch!", Sawyer exclaimed, his voice breaking in mid-air when realizing his first and most likely only attempt to actually selflessly help two of his fellow castaways had made a disastrous situation even worse. Horrified he watched the remains of the glass bottle that held the antidote to save Locke and Charlie.

"How could ya be so stupid!", he continued to yell, directed in both his own direction as well as Rousseau's. "--carrying it around in a friggin' glass bottle! Have you jungle monkey's never heard of plastic?"

"O man", the Southeners sighed as he moved his hand through his thick wad of hair. Aimlessly looking around his eyes suddenly caught the tranquilliser, innocently laying only a few inches away from his feet. Rousseau did drop it when he shot her, his intention hadn't failed it had only brought him some unexpected and unwanted extras.

A mischievous smile spreading over Sawyer's face he bend down to pick the complicated weapon off the ground. When he stood up straight again he spun on his heels until he faced Danielle, who was still standing a few feet removed from him. Not waiting for anyone to make a move and intercept his motive the Southerner aimed the weapon at its rightful owner and fired a shot.

With a soft thud he hit goal and the smile on his face only grew wider. "He shoots, he scores and the crowd goes wild! Wooh!"

Taking large steps in the direction of the French woman he was in her reach within seconds; stopping his pace when he was standing almost nose to nose with her. His mouth close to her ear, his warm breath connecting with her face Sawyer whispered "I guess my prayers worked. 'cause heaven just send you a signal to get us some new antidote."

------

Danielle cried out again as she felt her own weapon betray her, and pierce her skin. She grabbed at the stinging flesh and pulled the dart out, throwing it on the floor. She began to swear in French at Sawyer, while beating her arms on the floor.

"How do you expect me to help you now? You think he will last long? He is old!" She spat, throwing a handful of dirt at Locke who merely grunted as it landed in his eyes.

"The other is wounded, as am I. There is no hope. I can not even walk you American pig!"

Locke put a hand to his throat and began to go into a coughing fit, grabbing his stomach and curling into a foetal position.

"He is almost too far gone. And I cannot carry the injured one. Unless you can carry all three of us, Pig – then you will watch your enemy and friends die."

After five minutes, Locke tried to talk, and failed, spluttering blood. He shook his head and wiped his mouth, attempting to talk; "There's no other way? Even if there's… Just… One vial, you couldn't share it between yourself and Charlie?" He asked softly, looking at the young boy who seemed disorientated still.

"I could… It is a hike to my old camp where there might be supplies. But there's no way I can walk. Nor you."

"You'll think of something. But think fast." He whispered.

-----

"Words don't hurt Sawyer dirty cheeks", Sawyer mocked, as Danielle started to spill an entire French dictionary at him, " 'specially when I don't understand a friggin' word you sayin' ".

Though she had a point when asking how he thought she could be of any help when poisoned. Sawyer had only thought as far as giving her a reason to help them, not actually formulated a plan of how the help would be formed.

"Oh sonuvabitch…", the Southerner mumbled as heard the hunter's coughing fit. Shifting his gaze towards the small British man a little further he saw both of his fellow survivors were too far-gone to be of any help. He had to act fast or there wouldn't be any hope of surviving left. And how the hell was he gonna explain that one to the Doc. He could picture the outcome being him being marched away in the dead Marshall's handcuffs, 'cause no way in hell was that hero gonna believe it wasn't all Sawyer's fault.

Hearing the urge in Locke's voice, his thoughts of the future faded away and he turned his attention back to the present, or more specifically, to Rousseau. "We're not gonna waste time by hiking to some camp where your fellow jungle buddies are dancing around, planning to sacrifice us to some monkey God. Can't you just pick some leaves, squeeze them together and make your own antidote? Isn't that how ya'll survive in the wild?"

-----

"You think that would work?" Locke croaked, a small smile on his dry lips. "Because I don't." He tried to get up from the floor, but dropped back down when he felt his chest tighten, and burn, as if his heart were to implode.

"Nor do I. It is not that simple. I cannot magic something up. It takes weeks for the antidote to settle, and even here there is nothing I can use! I need to find my old camp! I could if you had not both shot and poisoned me!" Danielle shouted, cradling her leg, simultaneously rubbing her temple.

"If you just help me up Sawyer, if I'm on my feet, I can carry Charlie or Danielle. If I just adjust… I'll be ok." Locke said, trying to lift himself up.

"I just need a helping hand."

"I don't believe that." Danielle mocked, almost laughing.

"You don't have faith in me?"

"I'm French. What do you expect?" She replied, raising her eyebrow. "If he is able to carry the other man, and you can help me to walk, then perhaps we can make it to my camp. I can get the antidote, if there is one. I promise nothing."

-----

Sighing at the sight of Locke and the French chick agreeing that his suggestion was complete nonsense Sawyer walked away from the scene and into the direction of the awfully quiet Charlie.

"You okay Amigo?", he asked friendly as he linked his arm around the British man's waist and lifted him off the ground. For a moment forgetting his act of mocking everyone and keeping them on a safe distance.

"I'm peachy", the former rockgod replied with a smile as he heavily leaned against Sawyer. "I only fell from the top of a mountain before getting tortured by some crazy French chick. Just an ordinary day on the island."

"Good", the Southerner replied, only vaguely hearing what the British man was saying. His attention more focussed on Locke and the jungle woman who seemed to be in a heated discussion.

"Alright children, move it", he demanded as he walked towards the other two, his pace obviously slowed down by Charlie dragging on besides him.

"I'd suggest to take the lead, but I can't track a camp by following monkey shit and broken leaves. So French… woman, after you. And I warn you, one trick and I'll blow a matching hole in your other leg", the Southerner threatened waving the gun he had stuck in the back of his jeans in front of her eyes. "I bet even wild chicks aren't immune to torture."

------

Danielle spat on the floor, and glared at Sawyer before hauling Locke on his feet, ignoring his cry of pain as he clutched his chest. Danielle began to fall, but Locke was there to put his arm around her waist, while she did the same with his shoulder. He looked down at her and she stared back;

"Don't get any idea's." They said at the same time, beginning to walk.

Time passed and Locke began to falter in his step, releasing Danielle and leaning against the tree panting.

"Oh God. Oh my God this is harder than I thought." He admitted, looking at Sawyer with uncertainty.

Danielle only grunted, and pulled him away from the tree;

"I cannot walk without you, now come – we need to be moving swiftly" She ordered him, further ignoring his splutters of pain.

Another ten minutes and Locke began to feel worse, the pain spreading through his body.

"You feel it too?" Danielle whispered to him.

"Yes Helen." He muttered absentmindedly, tightening his grip on her.

Moving through a clump of dead routes, Danielle forced herself from Locke, and began to limp ahead of them. Exasperated, Locke dropped to the floor and panted heavily;

"Where are we?"

"Welcome to the Black Rock."

------

Sawyer felt Charlie's body getting heavier with every step they took. After somewhat minutes had passed it seemed as if the British man had completely given up walking on his own, and his sneakers were now dragging through the soft soil of the jungle as the Southerner dragged him along.

Looking aside he saw the boy's eyes drifting away. Stopping in his pace instantly Sawyer firmly snapped his fingers in front of the former rockgod's face.

"Stay with me Sport", he said worried, waiting for Charlie to come back to him.

Blinking a few times the younger man opened his eyes again and nodded in the Southerner's direction.

"I'm alright", he confirmed, standing on his own feet again and swiftly following the two people in the distance.

It wasn't until he was absolutely sure that the British man was okay again that Sawyer looked in front of him instead of next to him. And when he did so all he could say was "What the hell…"

Witnessing one of the most bizarre things he had seen on the friggin' island thus far. A real like pirate ship was stashed in the middle of the jungle, it's presence overwhelming to even Sawyer.

Charlie followed the other man's gaze and his mouth dropped open at the sight of the ship. "No sacrifice stone", he mumbled, vaguely remembering Sawyer's reference earlier that afternoon.

"Nope", the answer followed from besides him. "Unless Jack Sparrow is cheek's jungle buddy."

-----

Locke looked up; following Sawyers gaze and stared at the ship as if it was nothing out the ordinary, just something that had been misplaced. Slowly, he stood up, hoisting himself using the tree next to him. Leaning against it, he collected his mind, and began to stagger towards it.

"I didn't expect this." He said, more to himself than anybody else, approaching the Black Rock, ignoring Danielle's eyes boring into the back of his skull.

"This must have been some sort of slave ship. Coming in from the west, merchants of some sort. How long have you been living here?" He asked turning to the French woman, who simply nodded.

Looks cosy." He muttered under his breath. Again, he felt a piercing pain in his chest, and he clutched at his wound, closing his eyes and exhaling a ragged breath.

"I'm waiting for you to invite me in. I don't want you to think I'm intruding" Locke said, turning to her and smiling.

Danielle gave her nod of approval, and turned to Sawyer. "So you know, if there is only one vial of antidote, it goes straight to me. Pray there is two."

-----

"That's up to me Jane", Sawyer replied to Rousseau's selfish remark. "Me man with gun. You woman with hole in leg. Got it?", he snapped.

Moving his arm behind his back he took the gun out of his jeans and used it to point to the entrance of the ship. "Now hurry up. I don't got all day to play hero of the month. We got Doc for that. I'd rather spend my time sunbathing", he added with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Not necessarily thinking of himself laying on the sandy beach, trying to catch the best rays of the sun, but more of the female castaways and what they were wearing. Or rather, what they weren't wearing.

Charlie felt his head spin around, the enormous blood loss causing dizziness to take over. His eyes suddenly turning away he instantly lost control of his body, his weight giving a heavy pull at Sawyer's arm, which almost lost his balance in the process.

Looking next to him, the Southerner saw the peril state the former rockgod was in. "Hey Amigo!", he yelled, afraid time was running out. Snapping his fingers again, but this time it took longer for Charlie to get back to him. Mumbling an almost inaudible "I'm alright".

"Yeah, sure you are", the other man replied, not believing the British man's words.

Tightening his grab around the smaller man's waist he locked eyes with Danielle.

"Next stop", he loudly announced, to both push Rousseau to get on going as well as trying to ignore the eerie feeling the mysterious pirate ship was giving him, "Antidote to jungle poison and a first aid kit. Seems like Sport here needs some other medical shizzbash as well."

-----

Danielle shot a look at Sawyer, and her top lip twitched in anger. She looked to Locke and sniggered;

"We should hurry up shouldn't we? Wouldn't want you to be sick."

Locke only panted in reply, his internal organs starting to give up hope, his throat closing up, making it almost impossible to breathe. Danielle walked up to the Black Rock and without words, entered it, disappearing inside into the darkness. Locke pushed away from the tree and began to stumble in her direction, one small step at a time. Painfully and slowly it seemed, he made his way into the ship, and followed her footprints, looking around the cobwebbed walls.

It certainly looked like a slave ship, as he had suggested earler, the chains and buckles on the floor a dead giveaway. It wasn't untill he saw the skeleton he realised just how correct he had been.

"You lived down here, and didn't move the bones?" He asked confused.

"You shouldn't wake the dead." Came her reply, ahead of him.

Following her voice, he dragged his feet into the cockpit, where old blankets and food lay dormant in corners, advertising some sort of life that had been here.

"You didn't take the food with you?" Locke questioned, stepping over a mouldy

can.

"I left it for the rats."

"That was... Kind of you."

Danielle bent down in one of the corners, her back to Locke, blocking what she was doing. She used her right hand to noisely search the old blankets, while her left knowingly made its way into a container, and took the last vial of antidote within, concealing it in her jacket.

"Any luck?" He asked, bending down to help look.

"No" She snapped, quickly standing up and brushing herself off.

"You are doomed." She added.

"Don't you mean we?"

"Yes. We."

-----

Heavily leaning on Sawyer Charlie stumbled inside the "Black Rock". It was pretty dark and his sight was blurry, so he couldn't really make out much of the stuff around him. Frankly, he could care less. All he wanted was to rest, lay down. Didn't matter if it would be on a soft bed or the dirty soil of the jungle, or the ship.

"Need... to... sit...", was all he could mumble in Sawyer's direction. But it was enough.

"You got it Amigo", the Southerner replied absentmindedly. Carefully sitting the former rockgod down against a large dark-wooden chest near the entrance he took in the environment. Not being able to take his eyes off what he saw: buckles, chains, ancient metal weapons, or at least so it seemed. Quickly making sure Charlie would be all right by himself Sawyer followed Danielle and Locke, deeper into the cave of the lion.

"I... I'll be here when you need me", the British man joked, as he watched the three figures disappear in the dark. The only proof he wasn't alone being the far away echoes of their footsteps and quiet conversation.

Unnoticeable he took the gun from out of his jeans, not necessarily pointing it at Rousseau, but having it ready just in case. Pirates, ghosts, Sawyer wasn't sure what he could expect, but he knew that the dark place was creeping him out and the cold steel in his hands made him feel more secure.

"We there yet?", he said impatiently after only tens of seconds had passed.

Suddenly he heard a loud cracking sound from under his feet and when he looked down he saw fragments of bones under his feet. Human bones. "Sonuvabitch!", he cursed with clenched teeth. Jumping up and swiftly moving away from the skeleton remains.

"I'm havin' enough of this bullshit". Quickly making his way towards Danielle he stood still in front her, forcing her to stop as well and listen to him. "You know where we goin' to or what? 'Cause I'm thinking you know nothin'!"

-----

Danielle shielded herself from Sawyers anger, and wrapped her jacket around herself tighter, keeping the antidote hidden. She finally met his gaze and shook her head;

"I thought I could do something. I thought there was antidote here. Your friend will die, as will I. I am going now. Do not try to follow me, you will regret it." She warned, stressing the word "will".

Turning from him she gave Charlie a final look before heading back into the woods, exiting as swiftly as she had arrived. Meanwhile in the cockpit, Locke sat alone with the corpses, slowly dying without the stolen antidote. Calling to Sawyer with what was left of his breath and mite, he let his head drop, his chin knocking against his wound.

His mind wandered back to Charlie and how he had miserably failed him, like he failed everyone. No matter how hard he tried, John Locke was to fail everything and everyone, and it seemed his time on the island had come to an end.

It seemed he would now leave The Island painfully, just as he had arrived. Just as he had lived.

-----

Danielle shielded herself from Sawyers anger, and wrapped her jacket around herself tighter, keeping the antidote hidden. She finally met his gaze and shook her head;

"I thought I could do something. I thought there was antidote here. Your friend will die, as will I. I am going now. Do not try to follow me, you will regret it." She warned, stressing the word "will".

Turning from him she gave Charlie a final look before heading back into the woods, exiting as swiftly as she had arrived. Meanwhile in the cockpit, Locke sat alone with the corpses, slowly dying without the stolen antidote. Calling to Sawyer with what was left of his breath and mite, he let his head drop, his chin knocking against his wound.

His mind wandered back to Charlie and how he had miserably failed him, like he failed everyone. No matter how hard he tried, John Locke was to fail everything and everyone, and it seemed his time on the island had come to an end.

It seemed he would now leave The Island painfully, just as he had arrived. Just as he had lived.

-----

Sawyer heard John Locke call for him, and even though he mumbled an answer in the hunter's direction he wasn't paying much attention to the man. Instead his eyes were focussed on the exit of the ship, the one the French chick just passed before she disappeared into the shadows of the jungle. He knew she couldn't be far away. The poison running through her veins, seeping through the pores in her body must have the same defeating influence on her as it did on his two fellow castaways.

Quickly thinking over his options the Southerner knew there was only one thing he could do to save John and Charlie, and that was going after the woman. The hunting look in her eyes wasn't that of a cat giving up all hope and looking for a final resting place, it was that of a wild tiger struggling and fighting to survive. So wherever she was going to, salvation was there. For her and the two hurting men.

"Hang in there John", he said with clenched teeth as he followed Rousseau's footsteps in the dust.

Passing the small British man he quickly crouched down next to the younger man's side and simply said "I'll be right back".

Just to let Charlie know he wasn't leaving him there to die, that deep inside he wasn't the selfish man anymore he was the first day they met. Right after the crash, when the Brit asked him for a smoke and only after a lot of sneers back and forward he handed him the almost burned up cigarette before putting a new one to his own lips. He had changed and he was going to prove that to them. To Kate.

Without another word he stood back up and ran in the direction he saw Danielle disappear.

Charlie had heard Sawyer's words, it had slowly brought him back to consciousness. Glancing through his eyelashes he saw Locke's slumped down figure not far away. The man was obviously getting worse.

"I guess it's just you and me again John", the former rockgod mumbled, stating the obvious. "I'm getting bored of this place, you don't happen to have some playing card with you, so you?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Locke/Danielle ****  
****Black Rock/Jungle ****  
****Charlie/Sawyer**

His body burnt and succumbed to the poison invading his body, clouding his judgement of things past and present, things no longer real or fake. There was only a degree of stillness, which kept Locke on the Island, inside the cockpit, slumped against the wall in a wheezing heap. Charlie's words penetrated his hearing, only slightly so the odd word came out making sense. Locke's head twitched, and he reached out into the air, hoping to grab the man, only finding stale air.

He slightly shook his head, and felt sweat drip from the end of his nose, his body trying to cool him down coming to no avail. It didn't matter what happened to him, he wasn't really there to witness the horrors of his new body. Reaching out for Charlie again, he missed once more and gave up completely. How was he meant to pass his test the Island sent him when he was being poisoned and couldn't even move? It seemed ridiculous, but maybe, just maybe it was the Islands sign of saying not all was LOST.

Outside of the Black Rock, Danielle had quickly constructed a trap as she shook Sawyer off her tail when she heard his footsteps following her. Ducking into the bushes, she took the vial out of her pocket, and drank three quarters of it, saving the rest for a more appropriate time. She cursed the Southern hick under her breath, than started running again, before stumbling from the pain in her leg, the tendons ripping further, sending her into another spasm of pain.

**Charlie ****  
****The Black Rock ****  
****Locke**

Charlie, being aware of Locke grasping in his direction, slowly crept closer to the hunter; ignoring the increasing pain his body was enduring.

"John!", he firmly said; forcing his voice to be more present than all the faint mumbling from before.

Not getting the desired response he repeated himself. "John! You still with me man?"

Desperation was seeping through the former rockgod's voice. Not only was he sincerely concerned about the older man's condition he was also afraid what this meant for his own. He had always considered Locke to be one of the strongest people on the island; capable of enduring anything that came on his path without even a word of complaint. If the hunter was giving up, what hope was there left for Charlie?

Even if he'd survive the wounds costs by the fall, without Locke the motivation to survive would be gone. If there was one person on this island he had absolute faith in to save them all, it was John Locke. And that one person was currently looking more like a slumped down pile of desperation than a hero about to rescue his fellow castaways.

**Sawyer ****  
****The Jungle ****  
****Rousseau**

The Southerner had an unfair, but desirable advantage when he ran out of the slave ship to hunt down Rousseau. The poison and wounded leg had obviously slowed her down, and even her expertise on making traps couldn't prevent her from taking a short stop to actually build it. Just enough time for Sawyer, with his large steps, to catch up on her and watch carefully while she was making the trap.

When Danielle moved on, Sawyer avoided the well-built trap easily and watched how she took another pause only seconds later. The bushes shielded her off for untrained and unaware eyes. But since the mocking American had been following her all along he could see her every move. The vial she took from her coat, the large gulp she took out of it. Every thing.

Clenching his teeth Sawyer wanted to grab her that instant and steal the vial from her pocket. It looked like there was still a small portion of the antidote left in there and it might be enough to save the others.

But before Sawyer could make his sprint in the French woman's direction she unexpectedly took off in the other direction. Luckily for the Southerner the pain he had inflicted in her leg before had apparently become so overwhelming that after a brief run she started to stumble on her legs. Giving him just enough time to catch up and with a simple movement from his hand grab the remaining antidote from her coat pocket.

A confident smile settling on his face he said "Thank you", and saluted her before running back in the direction where he came from.

Stopping an instant he looked over his shoulder and shouted in Rousseau's direction: "Hey Jane. If you decide to play nice from now on, I'll send doc to patch up that nasty wound you got there. You should be more careful ya know."

And with that he turned back around and ran as fast as he could back to the Black Rock, hoping he wasn't too late.

**Locke ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Charlie**

The quiet fear and confusion mingled nicely together, leaving a feeling of despair in Locke's body that threatened to take him from consciousness any moment. Forcing his eyelids to open, he saw Charlie sat not too far from him, with a loop sided grin. John shuffled where he sat, rising up a bit so he could face him, and smiled back at the recovering addict;

"I'm still with you Charlie...Just. We just need to wait." Locke sighed, his breath carrying a small laugh.

"It's a shame we couldn't finish our lesson today, I felt I had more to teach you. If...When we get out of this situation, we'll talk more ok Charlie?"

He moved his gaze around the cockpit, half looking for the playing cards Charlie had suggested earlier, though obviously finding nothing. He wiped his nose, and rubbed his chest, in hope to soothe the aching pain in his chest.

"How about we improvise? Rock, paper, scissors?"

**Danielle ****  
****The Jungle ****  
****Alone/Other?**

Disappointment seeped through to Danielle's outer pores, her very sweat acting as the incandescent rage felt for Sawyer as he swiftly took the rest of the antidote and vacated the jungle back to the Black Rock. She sat in a hunched position, panting and gasping for air, though her lungs had begun to settle. Should she had taken only half the antidote then she may have died, but three quarters ensured her safety - for Locke she did not know nor care of his outcome.

Ignoring the cold winds of the east, she lay on the ground, waiting until she felt fully better to return back to her abode. However, the single snap of a twig was enough to have her spring to her feet and her eyes dart around the jungle. Curling her fists into a ball she gritted her teeth, eyes narrowing in fear.

"Who is it?" She whispered to herself. Another twig snapped, closer to her this time, and she prayed it was only one of them, that's all she to hold on to.

"Others."

**Charlie ****  
****The Black Rock ****  
****Locke**

Relieved when the older man opened his eyes and - though obviously still slipping away from the conscious world - managed to open his mouth and form a sense making reply, Charlie's face brightened up a little.

His answer wasn't a satisfying one, nothing the former rockgod couldn't think of himself, but at least it was an answer. And that meant that not only was Locke still awake, he had actually heard Charlie's remarks before. And that was a good thing on itself.

The rock, paper, scissors -comment surprised the ex-junkie. Locke usually wasn't the type to make a joke or even react to one of Charlie's. He figured it must be the poison talking, it simply wasn't the hunter's style.

"Sure man", he quietly chuckled. "Sure."

**Sawyer ****  
****Jungle / The Black Rock ****  
****Charlie, Locke**

Not wasting any more time and energy on the crazy French woman, Sawyer hurried back to the Black Rock. It wasn't too far away, yet it seemed an eternity before the Southerner's eyes captured the gigantic slave ship. Seeing it for a second time it was just as impressive and once more he was astonished when seeing the bizarre sight in the middle of the jungle.

"James!", a voice suddenly shrieked out from above him. Startled Sawyer looked up to see nothing but the clear blue sky.

Confusion took control of him, but his mission to save Locke and Charlie seemed more important than to figure out who was calling his name.

"James!", the voice shrieked again. And this time when he curiously looked up to the sky he saw a huge bird circling above his head. The creature must have been at least 10 feet tall.

"Sonuva...", he gasped.

Running the last few feet back to the entrance of the ship he gasped for air when he arrived at Charlie and Locke.

"It's a goddamn Jurassic Park out there!"

**Locke ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Charlie/Sawyer**

Weakly bringing his hand up, he curled it into a fist and looked at Charlie with a weak smile.

"Rock beats a blank face." He chuckled, lowering his hand and closing his eyes again. The pain seemed to refuse to relent in Locke's body, the tight pain in his chest feeling like he was being strangled, the stabbing pain in his collarbone equally stressful. He was barely aware when Sawyer entered their part of the slave ship, and only sniffed the stale air in acknowledgement when the Southerner spoke.

"We're more along the lines of Poseidon Adventure, not Jurassic Park." He managed to say, his voice breaking mid-way, finishing his words with a wheeze.

"Did you find me my miracle?" He asked, raising his aching head to him, trying to look up at his face, but his eyes were not accustomed to the light in his condition.

**Other (Identity undecided) ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Sawyer, Locke, Charlie**

"Excuse me gentlemen" Came a soft but soothing voice from outside the belly of the Black Rock. This was followed by a silhouette in the doorway, facing the three men.

One was old, and sitting in a crumpled heap, panting in pain it seemed, blood leaking from the mans ugly mustard t-shirt. The other also sat on the floor, younger but looking as uneasy as the older one - dirt covered his attire and blood was caked on the edges of his face. As for the one who stood, he looked far more put together, an upturned smile on his face, a raised eyebrow at himself.

"It seems like you're in a bit of a pickle here. Need any assistance?" He asked, holding out a clear vial of liquid, the insides of it whirling slowly in its container.

"If it's antidote you're after, perhaps I'm your man. The French Woman, Danielle is it? - gave me the rest of it, she's sly that one isn't she? Need anything else, you two look mighty unwell - how about I chop some firewood, and we get some heat going?"

* * *

_Author's note:_

_The first update of this story was only posted on Fanfiction because it was too huge to post it as one post on the forum we're playing this RPG. It wasn't meant as a story to attract lots of readers. However, after all the wonderful reviews, we (Zarina; Charlie/Sawyer & Amy; Locke/Danielle/Other) decided to keep posting our story here as well. If any of you are impatient as to what is gonna happen next check this link in my profile. It's to the board where we update the story more frequently than onFanfiction._

_About the poison and your remarks: Sawyer came into the storyline later and doesn't know that only Locke is poisoned (yes you guys are right ;)). He'll find out soon enough though..._

_Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, keep the feedback coming xD_


	3. Chapter 3

**Sawyer ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Charlie, Locke, Other**

_"Did you find me my miracle?" _

"'course I did", the Southerner replied, a broad smile crossing his face. He got closer to Locke to hand him the vial with antidote. But before he reached the hunter a fourth party revealed himself.

Turning around he faced the stranger. He couldn't make out the features of the man's face, since he was shielding of the entrance with his body and with that most of the light that lit up the dark insides of the ship. But the voice didn't sound familiar and Sawyer was pretty sure that this wasn't one of their fellow castaways. Just like the French chick.

Getting the obvious conclusion the Southerner raised an eyebrow and slowly took a few steps closer to Locke and Charlie. They weren't in a state to protect themselves from peril strangers, so he had to do it for them. Besides, he never gave away the opportunity to a good fight.

When the man showed the vial in his own hands all of Sawyer's doubts ebbed away; he was now one hundred percent sure this man was an ally of the crazy French chick. How else could he get his hands on her stuff?

Creeping a little closer to the other two he quietly twisted the lit of his own vial and shoved the antidote in Locke's mouth. By now he was fairly certain the boar hunter was the only one being poisoned; whatever happened to Charlie it couldn't be solved with the antidote.

He just hoped the antidote would do its job fast. Sawyer knew he might needed John to defeat the stranger.

Clenching his teeth and narrowing his eyes Sawyer spit his words in the man's direction.

"She just happened to give you that? How convenient. Get the hell outta here, you and your crazy French chick!"

**Charlie ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Locke, Sawyer, Other **

Charlie looked surprised at Locke when he actually started to play the game. Seriously wondering, if it was the poison that so drastically changed the hunter.

When he saw Sawyer running back into the room he sighed of relief. For a brief moment he thought that the French woman, with all her weapons and jungle expertise, would capture the Southerner and with that all hope that he and Locke could be healed.

Another man quickly joined Sawyer at the entrance of the ship and Charlie figured it to be the doctor. But he was wrong. Instead it was another gentle voice and the former rockgod was still certain he was there to help them. Until the Southerner crept closer to them, quickly gave Locke the antidote and spilled hatred words towards the stranger. 

But Charlie wasn't certain that was fair. This man sounded truly sincere and offered much needed aid. Why turning that down without hearing the man out?

"What the bloody hell are you doing?", he snapped in Sawyer's direction. But his voice sounded weak and got lost before reaching the Southerner.

**Other ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Sawyer, Locke, Charlie**

The Southern man spat some sort of insult at him, though it did not penetrate his hearing as he was busy assessing the situation between the older and youngest males there. The antidote the rugged, blonde, taller man had shoved into the older mans mouth seemed to have done the trick to whatever poison had been flowing through his veins - and already he saw colour returning to the man's cheeks.

He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow at Sawyer, his mouth perked up in an amused smile.

"I can't say I'm on that good a term with the French woman, she merely shared with me information about your whereabouts, and instructed me to give you this antidote, which I must say, seems to have done the job."

**Locke ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Sawyer, Charlie, Other**

The precious feeling of his lungs taking oxygen in made him feel energised once more, the antidote given to him immediately taking effect on him, the pressure in his chest decreasing as well as the splitting pain in his head. He closed his eyes and waited until he could collect his thoughts and assess the situation he was aware was unfolding.

During this time, images flashed into his mind of the days events. The sound of Charlie hitting the ground below looped and replayed in his mind, a disgusting mixture of his crumpled body and dust scattering the area settling in his mind, making his face twitch.

The need to feel wanted and to do something that would tip the weights had always been an important part of John Locke's life, and the plan of searching for a signal on the Island had seemed such a brilliant plan. Not foolproof however, and they had both paid the price. Antidote could heal poison, but they would have a hard time of healing and explaining things when it came to Charlie. And once again, the guilt ensued, unrelentless and painful as ever.

Opening his eyes, he looked to Charlie and nodded his head, more to himself and rose from the ground, stepping in front of Sawyer slightly.

"I think my friend here is suspicious of you. I'm hoping for a name and then we can talk, how does that sound?"

**Sawyer ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Locke, Other (Charlie)**

The Southerner did not appreciate the tone the man in front of him was using; it sounded disparaging and contemptuous and was only adding to Sawyer's suspicion.

Narrowing his eyes further with each word the stranger brought out, he slowly moved closer to Locke and Charlie --till his body entirely shielded them off from danger. His right hand automatically slid behind his back, ready to grab a hold of the comforting metal of defence.

"You _do_ not want to mess with me", he warned through clenched teeth, before his fingers tightly embraced the steel grip of the fire gun.

However, before revealing the weapon and aiming at the smirking man in front of him, a shadow cast over his sight: John Locke had stepped in between him and the deceitful enemy.

"What are you doing?", Sawyer hissed in the hunter's direction, not only confused but even more so annoyed with this sudden change in the course of events.

But the man ignored his query and barely seemed to notice his nuisance at all. Instead Locke turned his attention to the stranger, his tone of voice indicating he trusted the man and they were merely having a pleasant chat.

**Charlie ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****(Locke, Sawyer, Other)**

The weak inaudible accusation spat in the Southerner's direction had taken the last of Charlie's strength. The tremendous blood loss and the overall impact of the pain and wounds caused by the disastrous fall of the mountain had taken their obvious toll on the small British man.

Being the only one still crouched down on the half rotten floors of the slave ship he barely noticed the verbal fight going on a little further away. Instead all he could hear -or rather, feel- was the loud thumping at the back of his head. Which each blatant pound the pain his body was enduring increased, until it reached almost unbearable heights.

The former rockgod slowly closed his eyes, the vague outlines of the three arguing man slowly fainting into darkness, wishing for nothing more than the torture to be over with.

**Other ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Locke, Sawyer (Charlie)**

He let the smile slip from his face as the man stood and asked him for a name. Only able to stand and gape at this question, he soon collected himself, and let the grin return to his face.

"If I give you my name, you'll stop with the suspicious look?" He asked, his gaze directed at the man who had been quick to defend the other two. His eyes dropped to the younger man whose eyes had recently closed, his mouth open, and chest still rising up and down, though rather softly and slowly, and raised an eyebrow.

The one who had addressed him, the older man, continued to stare at him, something about his look made him think of spotlights, the burn and isolation of the lights shining down on him.

"Ethan Rom."

**Locke ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Ethan, Sawyer (Charlie)**

Locke took Ethan's hand and gave it a brief shake, a false smile on the hunters face giving the man false hope. Two things niggled away at him as he released the man's hand and took a step back.

The first was he had been out of it when Ethan had entered the scene, and hadn't quite heard how he had addressed Sawyer. Thinking about it, Sawyer didn't seem like the sort of man who misjudged somebody, especially a man cut from the same cloth, and if he had began to shield him and Charlie, and then the Southerner must have felt something was wrong with this new man.

The second was the less obvious thing about the man, his name. By this, he did not mean "Ethan sounds like the character of Mission Impossible." No that wasn't quite the case; it was what the name spelt. Used to watching early TV quiz shows, John Locke was used to re-arrange words, formulating calculations and doing other seemingly pointless things that he had known would one day come in handy.

The anagram spelt; Other Man.

"Ethan, pleasures ours." Locke greeted, with a false smile on his face. "Excuse me."

Walking to Sawyer, he took the younger one by the shoulder and directed him to Charlie, shielding their backs from Ethan.

"We need a plan."

**Sawyer ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Locke, Ethan (Charlie)**

Suspiciously taking in the conversation going on in front of him, Sawyer unnoticeable observed "Ethan Rom" and his almost convincing soothing voice. Too bad for him that the Southerner knew better than to fall for a superficial bittersweet tone from a stranger on an already peculiar island in the middle of the Pacific.

Instead he kept a close eye on the man's movements and looked for places in Ethan's dirty and raged clothes where he might be hiding a fire weapon, or even one of the tranquiliser guns the French chick so conveniently carried around in the jungle.

There simply had to be a catch to this friendly manner. His expertise as a con man had taught Sawyer one thing: no stranger was ever to be trusted when acting indisputable nice --especially not right after the attack of a certain unstable French woman.

When Locke excused himself the Southerner finally saw his chance to speak his doubts out loud; just not loud enough for the Ethan guy to hear. Following Locke he took a few steps away from the new man, though glancing over his shoulder, he made sure to let the guy know he was keeping a close eye on him --even when having his back turned towards him and being a seemingly helpless victim to the man's inexplicable games.

"Hell yeah we need a plan!", he snapped at Locke, his annoyance from before still seeping through his suppressed voice. His eyes narrowed and focussed on the hunter, not even remotely aware of the unconscious British man laying on the floor before him.

"Like a plan how the hell we're gonna get out of this friggin' ghost ship...", Sawyer continued, his whispering voice sounding hurried."What with that Ethan guy standing between us and the exit and the French chick, and God knows how many other allies, hidden in the bushes outside with their little poison darts!"

Quickly glancing over his shoulder, to reassure himself they weren't suddenly surrounded by a crowd of wild Indians, he finished " 'Cause guess what? We're in a fucking trap!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Locke, Ethan  
Black Rock  
Sawyer(Charlie)**

Holding his finger to his lips and making a noise of silence, Locke drew himself in to Sawyer further. His eyebrows dipped in concentration as he tried to subtly look at Ethan to further assess the situation.

"Shhh, be quiet, if he can see us, he can hear us. Now, we're in no fit state to leave Charlie here."

"Can I help?" Ethan called from behind them, taking a step forward.

"No, no." Locke replied with a raised voice, slipping a knife into Sawyers back pocket.

"If you want to be subtle in dealing with him, a gun isn't going to do the trick. Take this knife, and if he does something like move towards Charlie or myself and you see it, then by all means go Hannibal Lector on him. But only if you're sure."

Locke winked at Sawyer, and then turned to Ethan with a false smile.

"My friend here isn't doing so well, can you return to the beach to find help?"

Ethan looked down at Charlie, and began to take a couple of steps forward, his eyes narrowed and mouth open slightly, chewing on his bottom lip.

"I can help. I could help you."

**Sawyer, Charlie ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Locke, Ethan**

"You got that right!", Sawyer angrily whispered in Locke's direction when he finally saw the unconscious state the British man was in. His chest was only faintly rising up and down, which gave the Southerner the obvious conclusion that Charlie was going downhill faster than they might be able to get to Jack.

Hearing Ethan's bittersweet question increased his irritation. He was about to snap something nasty in the other man's direction, but Locke beat him to it.

Suddenly feeling a small cold object in his back pocket he gave the hunter a questioning look.

"This isn't the right time for male bonding John", he hissed through clenched teeth.

He knew, of course, that wasn't Locke's intention at all. But when threatened or frustrated in any other way, Sawyer's only defence was his mocking and his sarcasm. That was all he had left to feel like he still had some grip on the situation and that's what he was using right now.

However, that didn't mean he wasn't carefully listening to Locke's explanation and slowly nodded in return to the wink.

As the other man started to speak to Ethan again Sawyer crouched down next to the now moaning Charlie, hoping he could somehow bring the man back to conscious. It would be so much easier to get out of the ship and back to the doctor if they didn't have to carry the British man.

Placing his hands on the smaller man's shoulder he carefully shook him.

"Charlie!", he said loud, no longer whispering.

"Come on sport, get up!"

**Locke, Ethan ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Charlie, Sawyer**

Locke watched as Sawyer bent down to talk to Charlie. The young recovery case hardly made any sign of acknowledgement, and thinking back to other times when he had been so vibrant, it pained to John to see him this way.

"Maybe we shouldn't life him Sawyer, he's hurt his head pretty damn bad. Could he make it back to camp?" Locke asked, more to himself than to anybody else.

Ethan took another step closer, and crouched down, just short of Sawyer, scratching his head as if to take measurements for a piece of wood – all builder-like.

"I could help you take him back to camp. Two people have got to be better than one." He ventured, carelessly playing with a twig on the floor.

Locke raised his eyebrows;

"What about me? What? I can't take the boy back to camp?"

"I just…" Ethan trailed off, standing up and looking Locke up and down; "I just didn't think you'd be up to the job."

Locke's mouth thinned and he strode past Sawyer, bending down and placing a comforting hand on Charlie's head;

"I'm no veteran." He growled. "Now, are we going to risk taking him back to camp in one go? Or do we set up pit stops? There's no sign of boar, so I don't think we'd have any trouble."

"Oh you're a boar-hunter?"

"What do you say Sawyer?" Locke pressed, ignoring Ethan.

**Sawyer ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Locke, Ethan (Charlie) **

Sawyer glanced at Locke, annoyed with the fact that the hunter was telling him what to do and what not to do --as if he was the only one with some good sense in his head and the Southerner was merely a small child only capable of making thoughtless suggestions.

However, he didn't get any time to reply to the hunter's comment, because suddenly he found a third party next to his side. The stranger was once again trying to show he was Santa's helper send from heaven. Offering aid with that bittersweet voice but underlying mocking tone.

Hearing Locke and Ethan arguing Sawyer rolled his eyes. Placing his hands on his knees he pushed himself up and turned until he faced both men.

"Cut it out kids will ya", he snapped, obviously annoyed.

Eyes turning in Locke's direction he continued. "Not everyone sees the strong masculine tracker underneath all those wrinkles John", the Southerner smirked.

"But…", he said, turning his eyes towards Ethan "…no way in hell I am gonna let you help us. Lead you straight to our camp? I might be pretty but I ain't stupid. Move aside macho or I'll let the hunter loose on ya. And trust me, after what you just said to him he's gonna eat you alive."

He winked in Locke's direction.

"Rawr!"

**Ethan, Locke ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Sawyer, Charlie**

"I merely meant that the gentleman doesn't look up to a trek. I mean you have just recovered from a big douse of poison." Ethan said, almost laughing as if the whole scenario was a big joke.

Locke gritted his teeth in frustration and gripped the knife in his pocket for support, the words "pissed" and "off" suddenly flooding his mind. He looked at Sawyer, almost wanting more support, before realising he didn't want anyone to fight battles which were his alone.

"You underestimate my power then, Ethan." Locke said, with forced coolness in his voice.

"Whatever you say, John." He replied, shrugging his shoulders, and bent down to examine Charlie.

Locke froze.

"I never gave you my name."

"What?" Ethan asked, turning to look at Locke again.

"I never gave you my name." Locke repeated.

"You did..." Ethan trailed off, a distinctive note of fear in his voice.

"Oh, don't pin this on my age, Ethan - I never gave you my name."

**Sawyer, Charlie ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Locke, Ethan**

"O, common", Sawyer hissed, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "You were too busy bickering before to notice, _John_, but I used your name. And smart guy over there apparently has a very good memory; the more reason to keep him far away from our camp."

Absentmindedly running a hand through his hair he added mumbling: "Don't wanna give doc a justified reason to say how stupid we been."

Eyes narrowing he waited for Ethan's reply to this, which, no doubt, was soon to come.

All of a sudden a soft moaning interrupted the silence. Looking over his shoulder the Southerner saw the British man stirring, his lips forming inaudible words. Taking a step closer to Charlie he crouched down next to him again, the ill hope the younger man was waking up and everything was going to be alright lingering in the back of his mind. But the former rockgod didn't wake up. And Sawyer realised there was no time for hoping. The small man's state was worsening fast and they had to stop arguing. They had to make a move.

A sudden idea sprang to his mind. And before he helped Charlie up his feet Sawyer jumped on his own and in the same fast movement took the gun out of his back pocket.

Aiming it at Ethan he said: "You wanna help macho? Why don't ya be our shooting target then?"

Not waiting fro a reply he used the gun to point to the entrance of the Black Rock.

"Common, move it!". The Southerner was now barking his orders.

Turning to Locke he said: "Can you help me get sport on his feet? We'll keep Ethan guy over there our beloved prisoner until we're out of this unknown area, his territory; until we're on safe grounds."

* * *

_a/n thanks for all the wonderful reviews!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Ethan ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Sawyer, Locke, Charlie**

Ethan's sickly, sweet smile instantly dropped to a scowl as Sawyer rose to his feet. He was about to retaliate when a cold gun, matching Sawyers attitude was pointed at him, forcing him to take a staggering step backwards. Paralysed by astonishment by Sawyers rash logic, Ethan was forced to take another step back, his mind coming to terms with what this man was doing.

"What are you doing?" He asked, trying to force back a slither of fear that rested uncomfortably in his chest.

Sawyer's words hardly penetrated Ethan's ears, as he looked around the cramped space in attempt to find a weapon of defence, or some kind of exit for him to run out of before the Southerner took some ear off Ethan's head.

As Sawyer continued pointing the gun, he gestured for Ethan to move to the entrance of the Black Rock. Finding that the hick was playing into his hand, he gladly obliged and took calm step backwards, smiling and saying;

"Whatever you say, Captain." In a sly, cool voice.

**Locke ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Sawyer, Ethan, Charlie**

Locke watched with almost amusement as Ethan's face turned from a smile to a look of fear. But was it fear? No, he thought to himself. It was a look of fast thinking, there didn't seem to be a look of fear, or a hint of being scared on Ethan Rom's face, he only seemed to look like a child that had just been caught stealing sweets.

"Is this really the way?" Locke questioned softly, unsure if Sawyer had heard him or not. Hearing his voice helped him focus on Charlie's situation, and he gave a simple nod to him; "I'll do whatever we have to, to get Charlie out of this place."

Walking behind Sawyer as he forced Ethan to the mouth of the ship, Locke bent down to the younger man, whose chest was barely moving, and ruffled his hair, smiling down.

"Charlie? I hope you can hear me, it's John. Now, we're going to take you back to the beach. But we need to make pit stops, we're a long way off from the caves and neither of us can make it back in one go." 

He took Charlie's arm, and wrapped it around his own neck, and began to raise, halfway, taking Charlie's legs and wrapping it around his shoulder blades. The weight on Locke's already exhausted body, make him grunt, but this only forced him to stand up straight, while straining to whisper to Charlie;

"I'm going to fix this Charlie. I'm going to fix this."

**Sawyer ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Ethan, Locke (Charlie) **

The sound of Ethan's voice ringing through the ship bothered the Southerner to no end. No longer were the words hidden within a counterfeit bittersweet tone, his last remark uncovered the true nature of the vicious stranger; the voice altering to a cunning edge. 

Ignoring Locke's query he kept a close eye on Rom. The tip of his gun following every small movement the man made.

"You better not try anything", he warned as he theatrically removed the safety of the gun. "My bullets are faster than your legs and I never miss. Ever. The nice holes in your jungle buddy are the solid proof to that."

Hearing the hunter's grunts Sawyer didn't need to turn around to imagine what was going on behind his back.

"Don't try to be a hero John. We got super Doc for that", he mocked; without taking his eyes of Ethan.

"If you gimme a sec here I'll give ya a hand. You just got poisoned for crying out loud! We won't tell anyone you got help, will we?" His last question was directed towards Rom. Not that he needed an opinion from the other man, on contrary. He was merely making sure the man understood that no matter what other circumstances occupied the Southerner, he wouldn't forget about his presence.

Slowly taking steps backwards, gaze still focussed on Ethan, he placed himself next to the hunter.

"Good thing I got two hands", he joked. "One for the gun...", his grip on the cold metal tightened while saying that, "...and one to carry Sport over here."

A broad, slightly arrogant, grin spread over his face. "I am an all around guy, ain't I?"

**Ethan ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Sawyer, Locke, Charlie**

He shrugged his shoulders, and looked Sawyer in the eye, a sly smile spreading across his wetted lips.

"Oh I'm going nowhere, trust me on that one." He said.

He looked behind Sawyer, at the hunter loading the passed out sap onto his back, and sneered, this time taking a more acidic tone to him; 

"Why Granddad, I'm impressed."

Now that Ethan had recovered from Sawyer's stupidity of pulling out a gun, he could improvise his way into safety before a bullet wound soaked his only pair of trousers.

"Want me to stop backing away in fear? Or am I ok here?"

**Locke ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Charlie, Sawyer, Ethan**

"No Sawyer, I'm fine." Locke said through gritted teeth, ignoring Ethan's sarcasm, and the scorching pain in his shoulder blades. 

He couldn't let anybody help him with Charlie, regardless of what shape the two men were in. This was his duty to help the young man. After all, they had entered the jungle together, and they would exit it with each other, regardless of whether Ethan had to be killed or not. 

"I owe this to Charlie, so if it's alright with you, I'd like to carry this chap back to camp."

He tested out his strength by taking a couple of steps forward, and gave a nod to Sawyer, his way of telling him he could make the journey. 

"Keep both of your talented hands on the gun, and keep him shut." He added, giving a strained smile at Sawyer in appreciation.

"Ready for a bit of a hike, Charlie? I want you to keep talking to me, you hear me, boy? You keep talking to me, so I know you're still with me. Got it, Son?" He whispered to Charlie, hoisting Charlie further up onto his shoulder blades.

"Ok, Charlie?"

**Sawyer ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Ethan, Locke (Charlie) **

"Trust you?", Sawyer's snarky reply was. "Funny guy."

At the same time he heard Locke's explanation, the reason for his determination to carry the small British man by himself. Of course a smirk from Ethan wasn't far away. It was almost as if the guy was trying to top Sawyer's sarcasm.

Another reason he hated this man with all his guts. Not because of the competition, the unexpected challenge from the stranger he actually enjoyed. But no, because there were so many characteristics he discovered in this guy that looked so much like his own; too much perhaps. It gave the Southerner an unwanted look inside his own actions and how the outside world must look at him.

Following Ethan's gaze, he allowed himself to shoot a quick glance over his shoulder as well and he had to agree with Rom, he was impressed with the hunter's strength.

"Whatever you say doc", he vaguely replied to Locke; his eyes once again turning towards Rom who was slowly but steady sneaking away from him. 

**Charlie ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Locke (Sawyer, Ethan)**

The former rockgod was balancing on the edge of unconsciousness. Swaying back and forth between the gaping black hole in his mind and the painful reality where he felt like he was floating above the steady ground. Locke's soothing words slowly pulled him back to the latter. The pitch black escape falling further out of reach with every word entering Charlie's ear; eventually bringing him back to consciousness.

His eyelids felt so incredibly heavy, the effort to open them was almost not worth it. If only he could stay in the dazed state, not really awake, not really feeling. But people were yelling, words were being thrown back and forth, a heated argument or fight even and they awoke him.

When finally he managed to peek through his eyelashes, the blurry view exposed looked surreal. As if he was still dreaming. It took the British man a full minute to realize the greyish image he was staring at was the ground; he really was floating. His head started to spin, the unnatural position he had opposite the floor made the ex-junkie dizzy till the point of extreme nauseas.

Moaning he covered his eyes with one unsteady hand. Hoping that ignoring the sight would stop making him feel like he was about to throw up every second. Hoping that forcing the bright light away would bring him back to sleep.

Even while trying to push reality away Charlie could hear a voice telling him to keep talking.

"Just make it stop", he almost inaudible mumbled in response. "Make it bloody stop."

**Ethan ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Sawyer, Locke, Charlie**

His body slowed to a halt as Sawyer returned his attention to him, his arms dropping to his sides, limp and lifeless – the difficulty of the situation dawning on him. If Locke could just keep Sawyers attention, he'd have a chance to take some kind of action, rather than just standing and staring at the gun pointed directly at his face. But you couldn't con a conman, and Ethan knew this, so once he stopped shuffling towards the exit, he stuck his hands in the air. 

"I think I'm getting claustrophobic, and Locke and Charlie here need to get out, so… We should let them pass?"

He leaned against the ships wooden walls, and gestured to Locke, "After you, John."

**Locke ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Charlie, Sawyer, Ethan**

"Alright Charlie." Locke soothed, working Charlie further up his shoulders making him more secure than before. "We'll get you out of here, when we get into the jungle, maybe we could find some aloe, or something. We'll see." He added, turning his head so he could just see Charlie, and smiled softly.

_"After you, John."_

Looking at Sawyer, and giving a sharp nod, he began to march past Ethan, muttering in his direction;

"It's Mr. Locke."

Bringing the injured Charlie outside, he took deep breaths of fresh air, and instructed likewise.

"Breathe in that air, Charlie. You've been in that ship for too long, that's why you're not feeling so good, you just need to breathe." He made a moan of false, exaggerated happiness, and took another deep breath. "Ah, that's good oxygen right there, Charlie. You feel it? Is it helping?"

**Sawyer ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Ethan (Locke, Charlie)**

"Well now", was all Sawyer said when he saw Ethan taking control of the situation. His suggestion happened to be the very same one being on the tip of the Southerner's tongue, so no need to cut the man's words off. Yet.

The man heard a vague mumbling coming from the direction of the British man, which could only mean he had miraculously regained consciousness. And though Sawyer was no doctor, hell he didn't even know how to provide first aid; he did realize that some fresh air could do the younger man some good.

"Very well", he continued when Locke had past him. "You go after Mister Locke", using the point of the gun once more to show Ethan the direction he wanted him to go to.

"And remember; this entire mess has really screwed up my lazy day. And on top of it all I missed my beauty sleep. I'll take any reason, any, to shoot you where it hurts most and let this day be not a total waste."

**Charlie ****  
****Black Rock ****  
****Locke (Sawyer, Ethan)**

The hunter's soothing words made Charlie drowsy again. But before falling back in a dreamless sleep Locke shook him around a little, preventing the ex-junkie from returning to that motionless state. 

He had no energy left to protest when they started moving. With every careful step John Locke took a cutting pain shot through the former rockgod's head.

As they emerged from the old and dim slave ship a wave of sun light fell over the British man. Overwhelming until the point it was all he could see. The bright white blur bringing sparks to his sight, the vegetation becoming neon green rays mingling with the stinging sun light. The jungle spun around and the dizziness returned.

"O bloody hell", Charlie moaned, desperately trying to keep the nauseating light out of his hurting eyes.

Replying to the hunter's query: "I think I am gonna throw up..."


	6. Chapter 6

**Ethan   
Black Rock  
Sawyer, Locke, Charlie**

Ethan stared at Sawyer, and stopped moving out of the ship. With a soft voice, so as to not disturb Locke and Charlie, he asked Sawyer;

"Are you sure you want to wage a war with me, Sawyer? I'm more powerful than you know." Not particularly caring about Sawyers reply, he shrugged his shoulders, and turned around, marching out of the cockpit, through the narrow passageway, and out into the open air.

"I warned you."

He looked to his left, then to his right, smiling as whatever way they travelled, his plan would succeed, and that cocky Southern man, wouldn't feel so confident about wearing that smile. He had the physical advantage over Locke and Charlie, but it was just Sawyer he had to watch, at least until he made it into the thick foliage of the jungle.

**Locke  
Black Rock   
Charlie, Sawyer, Ethan**

Locke bit his lip, and looked at the floor, moving his arms to test his strength. There was no way he could put Charlie down now, and pick him up again without his body giving way to the extra weight. He exhaled deeply through his nostrils and gritted his teeth, slowing to a halt at the mouth of the jungle.

"Charlie, I can't put you down. If you're going to throw up, just… Just do it, but… Be _careful_." He said, leaning slightly to the left, out of Charlie's way.

"But after that, Charlie – you have to do as I say, and keep still. Because this is going to be a bumpy ride, I can't prevent that." He continued, risking a look at Charlie to see if he had yet emptied the contents of his stomach over his shirt and the floor.

"You'll be ok, Son – just need to think of a happy place. People say you should think of the Ocean, but you don't need to think of it, we're surrounded by it… Where are you most at peace?"

**Sawyer   
Black Rock / Jungle  
Ethan (Locke, Charlie)**

"Ya ought to warn _me_?", Sawyer mocked in reply to Ethan. "And for what that is? Ya tend to forget one thing here. I have the gun, I'll do the warnin'. Got that macho?"

Being so occupied with the sly smirks coming from his new enemy the Southerner lost sight of Locke and Charlie who were now tracking further into the darker parts of the jungle. Out of reach for him to lend a helping hand. Or gun in his case.

But at this particular moment he couldn't care less. Because all he had eyes and ears for were Ethan's movements. The other man's arrogant remarks, false pretences and malicious face of expression made the Southerner not just suspicious, but also extremely annoyed.

He wanted to pay the man back for his interference and cunning comments. But somehow his usually brilliant sarcastic remarks seemed lost on Rom. And shooting him was far too easy; Sawyer wanted his revenge to be fun. 

For now all he could do was keep a close eye on Ethan Rom and possible hidden consorts in the jungle. So as Sawyer stepped out of the ship, following the other, he shot anxious looks over his shoulder and to his sides. Making sure he was always one step ahead of the malicious creature whose steps he was following.

**Charlie   
Jungle  
Locke**

Locke's soothing words and guidance seemed to be lost on the nauseous ex-junkie. He didn't have a fragment of focus left in his pained head. All he knew was that he didn't want to concede with his body's urge to throw up the remaining contents of his stomach. He was far out, but not far enough to not realise that when he gave in he was going to throw up over the man who was carrying him as well.

Catching the last of the hunter's words a small smile formed on his lips. By now he had fully regained the awareness of where they were at, and the clumsy ocean comment led Charlie briefly forget about his body's desire to puke.

_"Where are you most at peace?"_

It seemed such an easy question, yet he couldn't think of its answer. The places he once found peace were all destroyed by the impact of the drastic changes in his life. The British man no longer had a home with parents, or even his brother; no place he truly belonged. As a kid he spent hours and hours in church, but now he wouldn't want to set foot in one. Not without feeling guilty, knowing he was a sinner and his choir boy image was a mere act. And the once longed for over hyped stage was now the façade of what was going on behind it.

Closing his eyes in pain and disgust of what he had become Charlie remained silent. For his only answer, this very same island, would sound pathetic and unjust.

**Ethan   
Jungle  
Sawyer **

As Ethan began walking through the jungle, he could not help but let a confident smile spread across his face. From time to time he would stop to look at Sawyer, and shake his head as if Sawyer had just told him a hilarious joke. When Ethan had to strain to hear Locke and Charlie moving in front of them, he stopped at a small clearing, panting, and leaning on his knees.

"I have to stop a moment. I'm out of breath."

He sat down on a broken log, and brushed his hair aside, taking gulps of air, before looking at Sawyer, and grinning again;

"You're so cocky it's unbelievable. You think I came alone, Sawyer?"

As he spoke, the mood in the jungle seemed to change and it became unbearably dark, darker then what was natural in the day. One by one, a flicker of light sparked, and then ignited into a torch, which circled both Ethan and Sawyer. His smile stiffened to a smirk, and then dropped.

"Welcome to the jungle."

**Locke   
Jungle  
Charlie**

Locke had lost the sound of Sawyer and Ethan not longer than five minutes ago, and could only assume Sawyer had had to deal with the man who was unrelentlessly force his way into this situation. Locke looked around him, not yet recognising their location, nor spotting any tracks; human or animal.

"Ok Charlie, I need a break, just a quick one. I'm putting you down a minute."

He shuffled to a tree and nudged Charlie against it, carefully lowering him down onto the floor, and stepping back from him, wiping the sweat from his face, and dropped to the floor, so he could be level with Charlie.

"Sawyer should catch up in a moment. I figured he might get... Delayed with Ethan. I'll make sure we get back to camp before nightfall though, I don't think Jack even sleeps these days, and I bet he'll be expecting some sort of accident." Locke said, smiling at Charlie and wiping the sweat from to young mans face.

"It's been what? Three days since someone was about to die? Jack should be ripe for the repairing."

**Sawyer   
Jungle  
Ethan **

Ethan Rom's words and motions to indicate he was out of breath were an obvious act. But Sawyer let him anyway, if only so he got the time to figure out what direction his two fellow castaways had disappeared to. For minutes his mind had been too occupied with Rom's actions, but right now he came to realise he lost the two he said to protect.

And he was in a part of the jungle looking unfamiliar. He needed Locke's hunting skills, but the man seemed vanished. And the only other guy with an obvious knowledge of the tracking routes was the one the Southerner refused to show he was lost.

Deep in thought Ethan's sudden words startled the already anxious American.

"What the hell are ya talkin' about!", he snapped in reply. Furious, as a sudden shiver ran down his spine. When had it gotten so chilly?

Darkness poured through the jungle, capturing the last rays of light and swallowing them whole. Until Sawyer could barely see Ethan; though the two men were separated by a few feet only. A sudden spark to his right caught the Southerner of guard and he impulsively took a few steps backwards. But there appeared a second light and a third; until it seemed he was surrounded by them.

"Sonuvabitch!", the Southerner exclaimed. His words were directed towards Ethan, though he was too busy trying to get a hold of the deceptive situation he gotten into to face the man he was talking to.

Desperately clasping the grip of the gun, he used both hands to keep a firm grasp on the metal that was slipping away from his fingers. Sawyer quickly spun around on his heels, trying to get all the little perilous lights in a clear shot at once. But by doing so he had none of them really under fire at all; giving The Others a far too easy opportunity to fulfill their ominous task.

**Charlie  
Jungle   
Locke**

The hunter's decision for a short break couldn't have come at a better time. The British man had used his remaining strength to hold himself back, trying not to throw up all over Locke. But the second he put Charlie down the former rockgod clung to the tree he was sitting against; holding on for dear life. 

For a blissful second the jungle stopped spinning and the ex-junkie's stomach calmed down. At the same time his surroundings seemed to darken, the stinging light no longer blinding him, merely a nuisance increasing his already killing head ache. The British man finally dared to open his eyes, his face immediately changing from a painful frown to a slight greenish taint. Giving over to his body's desire Charlie turned away from John. Both arms wrapped around the tree's trunk, to prevent himself from sliding down and rolling onto the now very muddy soil behind it.

His watery eyes shut, catching his breath, the former rockgod kept his head bend down; low to the ground in case his body decided it hadn't endured enough for one day.

His voice hoarse he managed to speak a few words, still turned away from the other man.  
"Who needs repairing? I am having a blast, this is just bloody..."

Charlie whispered a few more inaudible words before his sentence brutally got cut off. Once more clinging to the trunk of the tree whilst he threw up with tremendous force tears of pain and frustration sprang to his eyes.

**Ethan   
Jungle  
Sawyer, The Others!**

He watched in amusement as Sawyer spun around on his heel, watching as one by one sparks of light ignited into flowing flames from torches.

He casually walked in front of Sawyer, unafraid of the cool piece of metal he held in his hand. He swept his arm in an arc, gesturing to the flamed around him, though no faces appeared yet.

"You really thought you could get away treating people like this, James?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in expectation,

"You tread through Our jungle, through Our home, and the only reason you are alive now, James, is because I'm keeping you alive. It's people like you that start to grate on me. Ungrateful. Sarcastic. And more of all, James…" He continued, taking another pace forward to Sawyer, and putting his hand on the gun, forcing it to point to the floor,

"Wrong."

He smiled one final time at Sawyer, and then one by one, The Others emerged from the jungle, surrounded Sawyer with their torches and sheathed knives.

**Locke   
Jungle  
Charlie**

Locke watched with uneasiness as Charlie uncontrollably threw up the remaining contents of his stomach, clutching the tree for dear life. Pinching the skin between his eyes in exhaustion, he turned from Charlie, giving him privacy as he struggled with his digestive system. He scouted the land, picking up the odd leaf and sniffing it to gain some sense of what surrounded them and if it could be put to use.

Walking further up, he felt a distinct change in the weather, something unnatural in the way the light seemed to disappear, and the birdsong drawn to a halt so suddenly. He kneeled on the floor, and bent over, suddenly feeling as queasy as Charlie, the effects of the poison finally starting to leave his body. Trying hard to ignore these feelings, he drew circles continuously in the dirt, forcing himself not to be sick; there'd be time to fret over himself when Charlie was safe in Jack's hands. 

Standing up, he wiped his mouth and returned to Charlie, and bent over to look at him.

"Charlie?" He said softly, picking a leaf off the boys shoulder, "You want to get moving? I think I'll need one more pit stop, but it's up to you, do you want to make one more pit stop, or shall we try for camp right away?"

**Sawyer   
Jungle  
Ethan and his comrades **

The metal was slipping from in between Sawyer's sweaty fingers, but he didn't allow the gun to fall away from his grasp, knowing it was all he have to defend himself against the deceitful Ethan and his jungle buddies. He might not be able to shoot all the son of a bitches down before they would hurt him, capture him, or God knows what their plan was, but only one bullet would be enough to get revenge on the man who seemed to be the criminal mastermind behind this dangerous jungle hide and seek.

When Rom started to talk the Southerner turned around again, his weapon, his only defence in the land of the unknown, aimed in the direction the voice was coming from. His frame was slowly bend and tense, strings of hair falling in front of his eyes and sticking to the sweat on his forehead. But with clenched teeth he remained focussed on that one sound in front of him. That one voice he wanted to end. His heartbeat started to rise, his breathing became uncontrolled, if only he could stop that voice, everything would be fine.

It wasn't until the second time that Ethan mentioned his name that Sawyer became even more aware of the peril situation he gotten himself into. Locke had been right before, the other man _did_ know their names. No one had ever dared to call Sawyer by his real name, James; no one who held his life dear that is. And as far as the Southerner was aware, not one of his fellow castaways knew his birth name. So how come that this stranger did?

"What did you call me?", he hissed in between his teeth, not really expecting an answer from the man who's arrogance was no walking away with him, and not getting one either. 

So surprised by this sudden course of events Sawyer did not even protest when he felt a slight tug at the gun and his perfect aim at Rom was now a perfect aim at his own right foot. But as tens of people started to emerge from the darkest corners of the jungle, their torches casting eerie shadows over the uneven ground, madness came over the Southerner. And with one final piece of willpower left, not giving a shit about the consequences of his irrational action, he forced his hands to move upwards. With a single snap of the index finger of his right hand he shot Ethan, who he was now standing face to face with, straight in the chest.

**Charlie  
Jungle   
Locke**

When he heard Locke's footsteps, indicating the man was returning to his side, it seemed as if Charlie's stomach had finally calmed down for real. No more urge to throw up the contents that were already scattered on the jungle soil, and surprisingly enough no more surreal images of the trees spinning around.

Turning around so he faced the hunter he really listened, for the first time since they had left the Black Rock, to the man's query.

"Whatever you want mate", he answered; finally releasing the tree trunk of the firm embrace.

Realising he didn't need the bark anymore to keep himself from tumbling over the former rockgod got a little cocky. Thinking that maybe he didn't need to be carried anymore. He could use his own two feet to move further towards camp. That way he could prevent any further inconveniences when his stomach had a sudden urge to release some tension.

Not notifying Locke about this change of plans Charlie placed his hands next to his side and used some force to push himself off the ground. Unfortunately he only managed to stay of the floor for a few second before his legs gave away from under him and the British man found himself back where he had left off.


	7. Chapter 7

**Ethan ****  
****Jungle ****  
****Sawyer and Ethan's buddies.**

Ethan made a small thud as he landed on the floor, and knocked his head against the dirt. Two men rushed to his side, and covered Sawyers view of the man. Small sounds of struggling ensued, before Ethan rose to face Sawyer again, and with a small grunt, ripped his shirt down the middle where the buttons joined the fabric, revealing a metal shirt - a bullet proof vest.

"Your gun was useless all along, James." Ethan said, his voice slightly wheezing, but nonetheless venomous and vindictive. "Oh yes." He continued, at first leaning on his comrade, before being able to stand alone, "The gun I admit was a little off putting, but as I said, you underestimated me. It shows now doesn't it?"

He tilted his head to the side, his hand on his hips, and then pinched his chin. "Now." He said. "Instead of more sass..." 

He nodded twice, once at a burly, buff man who stood to Sawyers right, and twice to the man behind him, smaller in frame, but still threatening in appearance.

"Grab him, bound him, blindfold him. Now."

He turned to the man who had helped him up. "Henry." He greeted, grabbing his shoulder and shaking it playfully. Henry didn't say anything, but sniffed, pointing to Sawyer.

"Why him?" He asked.

"Why not?"

**Locke ****  
****Jungle ****  
****Charlie**

Locke watched as Charlie tried to stand himself up, failing miserably, unfortunately, and tumbled to the ground again. Instead of helping him up at once, he stood, towering over the recovering addict, and placed his hands on his hips.

"Will you let me do my job, Charlie?" He asked, bending down and securing his arm under the crook of Charlie's, hoisting him up onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry. "Right, I don't want you to do that again Charlie, preserve your energy, just go back to that happy place we talked about, remember?"

He grunted as he secured him onto his own body, and began walking further into the jungle, the caves seeming like a more appealing place by the second;

"We'll be back in no time, Charlie."

**Sawyer ****  
****Jungle ****  
****Ethan & consorts **

An accomplished grin came over Sawyer's lips, and he let himself being pushed away by the strangers rushing to Rom's aid. Out of sight now for Ethan to see him, he slowly took some steps backwards --trying to slip away through the maze of the other man's servants.

But the grin on his face abruptly made place for a look of astonishment as Ethan rose to his feet, no indication whatsoever he was just shot straight in the chest. The bullet proof vest was revealed and the Southerner let out a grunt of frustration. This couldn't be true! How could this man have known he was going to come across him, and across the gun? How could he have been _that_ prepared? It was impossible.

Still stunned by what was happening in front of him Sawyer didn't reply to Ethan's snide remarks. Instead he was still trying to sneak away, but the circle of people around him slowly tightened and the man knew he was hopelessly outnumbered. Especially if they were all accompanied by the bullet proof vests and god knows what else.

The sudden appearance of two seemingly strong men at his side showed Sawyer he had lost this round of the battle. He couldn't save himself from being held in a tight grip, his arms roughly twisted behind his back; sending shots of pains through his hands and forcing him to finally let go of the gun he was still clutching in his fingers. It fell down on the muddy soil of the jungle, not leaving more than a small gasping thud to indicate where it had landed on the ground.

Hearing Ethan bark his orders to the two men beside him and the faceless strangers surrounding the small group, Sawyer knew it wouldn't be long before they most likely gag him; cutting off his only option to warn Locke and Charlie. So struggling against the two men holding him tight, trying to distract them long enough to not cut off his words, he cleared his throat and yelled as loud as he could.

"Run Locke! Get away from here. Run like that son of a bitch Ethan Rom in on your heels!"

Casting an arrogant look towards Ethan he stopped his protest when the other men started to tie him up. He had done his job for now. And Sawyer knew it wouldn't be long before he found a way to escape.

**Charlie ****  
****Jungle ****  
****Locke**

He knew Locke was right and let the other man once more lift him onto his shoulders to be carried further through the jungle. Charlie mumbled an inaudible reply at Locke's mention of the 'happy place', not wanting to admit that that would be this island. At least it seemed as if his stomach was really calmed down now and the track wasn't as bad as it was earlier.

The jungle darkened even more than before; but no longer the sudden change or eerie silence. This time it was merely the sun sliding down the horizon, the rays of light fading away into the night time. It was late and the acknowledging of the time moved the British man from feeling tired to being completely exhausted. The eventful afternoon had taking its toll on the young man as on so many others that day. 

Hoping they were close to the caves the former heroin addict closed his eyes trying to ignore the descending temperature around them and the thumping headache, but failing miserably.

**Ethan/Henry ****  
****Jungle/Their camp ****  
****Sawyer/The Others**

Ethan continued signalling to the two men holding Sawyer, making them drag him in front of himself and Henry. He looked at his comrade, seeking perhaps some sort of approval, to only find Henry stare down at Sawyer, and then turn around, heading in direction of their camp. "Back to camp then." He muttered to the two butch men keeping Sawyer, and jogged after Henry, catching him up and looking at the man again.

"Well?" He questioned, increasing his pace as Henry did.

"Well what?" He retorted, looking down at Ethan with a face of anger mixed with a supposed look of boredom. Ethan could understand the anger, but the look of dullness, as if he had seen this all before, as if he had better things to do? It rather insulted him. "If you're expecting me to say 'I'm impressed Ethan' you'll have a long wait."

Ethan frowned, checking now and then to make sure Sawyer and the rest were following them, as the two men walked ahead, leading the way back to their camp. "I don't understand." He said, forcing himself to keep up pace, though his legs were beginning to buckle, partly from Henry's growing wrath.

"What's to understand?" Henry growled, spinning Ethan around, glaring into his face. "You broke a direct order Ethan, you strayed from us, and what's more, you terrorised this group, when you could have told me, and I would have dealt with it. What the hell were you thinking, Ethan? Taking this man?"

Spluttering, Ethan raised his hands in defence from Henry, and shook his head in a way of apology.

"I never meant anything; he was just a trouble maker." He whispered, grabbing Henry's sleeves as his grip on him tightened.

"What now, Ethan? You want to piss over him and me and mark your territory? That's what you'd like?" Henry continued, his whispers growing frantic with annoyance.

"Henry please, I'm sorry. Don't show me up in front of him." He said, looking at the blindfolded Sawyer.

"You will be Ethan. Now get him back to camp, quickly, and then we plan. Until then I don't really want to hear a word from you."

**Locke ****  
****Jungle/Caves ****  
****Charlie/Jack**

Silence ensued as Locke struggled to put foot in front of foot, step after step and time after time he would think to himself; "I must get back to the caves with Charlie in one piece." He would mutter reassurances of reaching the caves to Charlie, though they were more for himself and he put in all his willpower to the task.

When at last he reached the familiar track leading to the caves, he shook his head, almost disbelieving of the fact he HAD got Charlie back here in one piece, with the boys laboured breathing an indication he still lived. But now came the shame and apprehension of what Jack would say when he reached the caves. The looks he would receive for letting this happen. The fact he had gotten hurt as well. And that Sawyer had to get involved with this.

Where ever he may be. Must have got held up, was all Locke could think, though he never heard the fatal gun shot. If Ethan had given the Southerner trouble, there was no doubt in his mind that Sawyer would have dealt with the problem immediately, but it wasn't up to him to worry about Ethan, it was his job to worry about Charlie.

"Help!" He called out as he dove into the caves, his frame wobbling under the pressure of Charlie. "Help me! Jack? Jack!" He called out; a brief smile of relief overcame him as he saw the Doctor emerge from round a corner.

"John." He greeted, his face once relaxed now frightened and concerned as he saw Charlie. Immediately taking action, he pointed to the mat on the caves floor. "Put him down there, gently." Locke did as instructed and gently lowered Charlie down, backing away slowly, leaving Jack to tend to him.

Jack looked him over, examining the head wound, and pointing at Sun and the medical box where bandages and medication were kept. "What happened to him, John?" He asked, leaving Charlie to keep silent and prevent any more head troubles. "John?" He asked again after receiving no reply, and turned around, however, only Sun stood there, Locke had vacated the caves.

"John!" He shouted, taking his hands from Charlie's head, palms already covered in blood and perspiration. "John!"

He shook his head, unable to comprehend the old mans rash exit and bent down over Charlie. "Can you hear me, Charlie?" He asked softly.

**Sawyer ****  
****Jungle / Camp ****  
****Ethan, Henry, Others **

The other men were walking at a far too high pace for the blindfolded and tied up Sawyer to keep up. He was continuously tripping over the various branches and plants in his way, resulting in him being dragged across the jungle to the other's camp.

His feet getting caught behind a nasty climber made him stumble on his legs. And if it weren't for the two men at his side, having a firm grip on his arms, the Southerner would have fallen face flat onto the soil.

He heard snippets of an argument between Ethan and a second man and he diverted his attention from the hard job of keeping on his feet to listening carefully to that conversation. And though the circumstances weren't there for him to join the lovely fight, increasing the humiliation Rom apparently was going through, the words being throw back and forth did make Sawyer feel good. It gave him that little extra spurt of energy that kept him on his feet when his knees buckled and the motivation to not give up. Not all was lost, it was far from it.

The encountering with these others had so far been only due to an inconvenient meeting with Ethan Rom. And according to the argument Ethan hadn't been right by capturing him. These others must be more civilized people. If only he had the opportunity to convince the boss of Ethan's mistake, he could talk his way out of this unfortunate mess. Sawyer was quite certain of it. He hadn't used his conning skills for a long time, and he felt quite eager to put his plan into action.

So even before they hit camp Sawyer spoke out loud, making sure he was heard by whoever was currently in charge.

"Excuse me gentleman", he yelled, while he moved his head in every direction, not quite sure where to look for the face behind the man telling of Ethan.

"I happen to overhear your little _argument_ there and I just want to reassure you that when you let me go there will be no hard feelings. I can see how a mistake like...", a grunt of frustration escaped the Southerner's lips when he once again tripped over a branch lingering around, "A mistake like that can happen. On this godforsaken island you never know who to trust. But I am only one harmless guy; I suppose it wouldn't be a problem to untie me? The cloth around my wrists is simply killing me."

Sawyer was talking to Henry as if he were a different man; using different words and different phrases than he usually did. No more arrogance or sarcasm, but an act to convince the other man of his genuine trustworthiness.

**Charlie ****  
****Jungle / Caves ****  
****Locke / Jack, Sun**

He didn't fall back into unconsciousness, it was merely the exhaustion that made Charlie close his eyes for the last part of their journey through the jungle. Hearing Locke's cry for help he looked through his eyelashes and recognised the pattern of the caves rising up in front of him; finally. Aid in the form of the infamous doctor Jack wouldn't be far away and maybe he could get something to drift away in a painless sleep, forgetting the horrible day just as easily as he forgot the fact Sawyer was still lost somewhere in the jungle with the malicious Ethan at his side.

The British man softly moaned when Locke laid him down. His head carefully, but still painfully, hitting the ground of the caves underneath the thin piece of cloth.

Jack screaming for John awoke Charlie fully, who was slowly sliding away from reality. He wanted to nod in reply to the man's query, but felt his head was hurting too much to do so. So instead he opened his mouth, a mere gasp of exhaustion escaping before his words. 

"Whatcha say mate, can you fix me something for my killing headache?" 

**Claire ****  
****Outside caves ****  
****Locke**

It was late the sun was slowly descending. With the darkness on her heels Claire was hurrying towards the other castaways. She knew she was an easy target for the dangers lurking around in the jungle. Slowed down by her pregnancy and a woman; she _was_ the most typical victim. And honestly, she wanted to be surrounded by the others. The ones she so easily came to trust. It made her feel safe, though really when thinking of it, they were complete strangers to one another.

Claire was absentmindedly rubbing one hand over her large belly while walking towards the caves. This motion always felt comforting and calmed her down when thinking of the absurd and peril situation they were in.

Before entering the caves she caught sight of someone emerging from it, and moving away as if being chased. For split second she stood mouse-still, not wanting the other party to see her before knowing who it was. But when she saw Locke's haunted features she quickly walked towards him, a concerned look spreading over her pretty face. 

The man's face was pressed into an awkward frown, giving him a much older and somewhat defeated expression. She didn't know the man all that well, but up till now he had always looked wise in her eyes. Calm whenever unexpected disaster struck, a quick solution to every problem at hand. So when John Locke looked worried, Claire knew something must be seriously wrong; out of his control.

What's the matter, John?", Claire said in her thick Australian accent. Not immediately getting a satisfying reply she added, "Who died?" She was only half joking, knowing that on this peculiar island her query could be scare fully close to the truth behind the hunter's worried look.

**Henry/Ethan ****  
****Jungle ****  
****Sawyer, The Others**

"Keep it quiet!" Ethan barked at Sawyer, turning to look him, taking satisfaction in watching the man trip once more. The path was a thick one, as only their people used it, unseen to anybody else; that "anybody else" being Sawyer. He turned his head to look at Henry, but was only met with jungle that surrounded him, and as he turned his head, he had found that Henry had stopped walking altogether. The men also stopped to look at Henry, who was staring into space. 

"Henry…?" Ethan questioned softly, becoming slightly worried Henry had had some sort of breakdown. His body had grown quite limp, his eyes wide and staring into space, and his expression vacant. "What's wrong?" Ethan asked, trying to follow the other mans gaze but seeing nothing. 

Ethan looked at the individual member that formulated the circle, but they only shrugged their shoulders as confused as Ethan was. "Henry!" Ethan snapped, now annoyed at this sudden ignorance. His face burned with the humiliation of Sawyer now picking up on the fact that it was Henry who ran the show.

Smack.

Ethan dropped to the floor, blood spurting from his nose and bottom lip. The thud made before when Sawyer had shot him was forced, but this noise as he hit the floor was pure; pure with force and anger. He gasped and clutched at his bleeding face, looking up at Henry who slowly and calmly lowered his fist.

"Ethan." He said, "I asked you to stop talking. I said I didn't want to hear another word from you. I also made it clear that it was not you who made the orders here. And I don't think 'Keep it quiet!' is really obeying my word."

He pulled Ethan up from the floor and squeezed the already sore bottom lip, pulling him up close and hissing in his face;

"You don't understand the seriousness of this… Do you Ethan? It's a shame you caught me on my bad day, otherwise I mightn't have had to do something as unprofessional like that."

Henry released him, leaving Ethan to cradle his face, panting for breath, and avoiding the looks of pity he received from his fellow comrades. 

Henry bent down next to Sawyer, and took a cloth from his back pocket and moving the blindfold slightly, mopped the sweat on his brow.

"I apologise for my companion's rash behaviour. But you'll appreciate my position when I say I cannot let you go now, not unless I sew your lips shut, and if you heard Ethan's splutters, you'll guess that isn't above me."

**Jack ****  
****Caves ****  
****Charlie**

Jack smiled down at Charlie briefly, nodding his head; "Yeah Charlie" He grinned, "I'll get you something for your head, but this is going to take time to sort out, you're not in a good way – but it's nothing we can't handle."

"Sun, get me some more water." Jack instructed, not allowing his voice to slip into a weary tone with Charlie conscious.

After Locke had left, Jack had carefully slipped a temporary bandage onto the patient's head, and cleared up any nicks and scrapes on Charlie's arms and legs. He cleaned his hands in the water, his reflection momentarily looking LOST to him, unrecognisable with the heavy bags underneath his eyes and mouth drawn into a tight line. 

"Ok Charlie" Jack began, crouching down next to Charlie, his arm on the mat, fiddling with the wrapper from the bandage, as if it could somehow make him forget about John leaving him and Charlie in a dire situation.

"Tell me what happened out there. What were you doing, was anyone else with you?"

**Locke ****  
****Beach ****  
****Claire**

Locke's unsteady legs managed to travel down the beach, buckling slightly under the downhill slope. His eyebrows dipped into a troubled expression, leaving his eyes wide with shock and mouth gaping. As soon as he reached the caves, he had gone blank, unable to comprehend their time spent in the jungle. The sound of Charlie slipping from the cliff, being shot in the neck, the loss of Sawyer on the journey back, all totalled in Locke's loss of breath and shaking limbs. 

As soon as he heard the familiar wispy voice of Claire Littleton, his head snapped upwards and he forced a smile, realising how bizarre he must have looked to a passing stranger. He stopped walking, and shuffled in the sand so he didn't lose stability which seemed to be fast disappearing.

"Who's dead?" He asked softly, taking a moment to realise it was a joke, before replying in the same tone she had spoke in, "No one's dead Claire. Only cut up into small pieces and mailed to me via a post box I found in the jungle." He paused, and gestured to the caves, "But Jacks' taking care of it."

Noticing in the afternoons that Charlie would frequently visit Claire, he didn't want his first words to be of his bad news, possibly causing her to implode a bundle of more distress for the Island.

**Sawyer ****  
****Jungle on the way to "their" camp ****  
****Henry (Ethan, Others)**

Sawyer suddenly felt a hard tug on his arm as he tried to take another step. Apparently the crowd had come to an abrupt halt. A satisfying smile formed on his lips when thinking that must be because they realized their mistake in taken him hostage. Sweet freedom was close by at last.

He listened carefully to the words Ethan used, his voice sounding more desperate and out of control after each unfinished sentences that crossed his lips. "Henry", Sawyer muttered under his breath, knowing that name was important and he had to remember it. 

A loud smack suddenly filled his ears, interfering with Rom's remarks and breaking the otherwise silence that had appeared around him. It sounded as if someone had gotten a slap in the face, and the Southerner hoped with all his heart it was the arrogant Ethan that had gotten the punishment; for wrongfully capturing him of course. The conversation that followed between "Henry" and Ethan did point in that direction and Sawyer smirked once more. This was going much better than expected.

Suddenly he felt a hand near his face and the blindfold was slightly lifted of his eyes. With a lot of force he managed to open one eye and peek underneath the dirty cloth, catching his first sight of the man earlier referred to as Henry; the person currently in charge, or at least higher in rank than Ethan Rom.

Sawyer's first impression wasn't that of the relentless commander in chief, who only moments earlier tortured one of his own men. Instead he faced an innocent looking older man with a smile on his face, pretty harmless. But as the man started to speak, his educated words slickly covering up his threats, something on the man's face changed; giving Henry a far more malicious expression than Sawyer had seen on Rom. And he knew that instantly that he was in deep trouble.

Still pretending to be an innocent man himself he let out a soft chuckle after the man's rhetorical question. "Got it chief", the Southerner answered politely, though the wheels in his mind were spinning full speed, trying to think of a way to escape his frightful near future.

**Charlie ****  
****Caves ****  
****Jack (Sun)**

Charlie let Jack do his job, without interrupting him in any way. He felt much better already, just laying still on ground instead of bumping through the jungle. And the doctor's care eased the British man in a half dazed state.

It was then that Jack suddenly blurted out his questions and though the former rockgod felt too tired at first to answer, he knew he owed the other man that much. Not seeing any problem in telling the full truth he told his story.

"Well mate, it's quite an interesting little tale actually", Charlie started off.

And soon he was sharing the information on his trip with Locke to get a transmission signal, his disastrous fall of the mountain and their meeting with Sawyer and some vague others. It took quite some time for the British man to tell everything, taking breaks in his speech every other sentence to catch his breath. He also left out big chunks in his story, since he wasn't fully conscious most of the time and didn't pay attention to everything that happened around him; with Danielle and Ethan.

"Which brought me into the most excellent care of Doctor Jack", he finally finished. Charlie's tired eyes fluttering closed while phrasing his final sentence. He wasn't asleep yet, but he simply was too exhausted to keep his gaze on the man taking care of him. 

**Claire ****  
****Beach ****  
****Locke**

"It's gonna be all right then?", Claire asked rhetorically. It sounded like Locke needn't worry; Jack was taking care of it.

Being one of the few people not being able to provide something for the group, the Australian wasn't exactly in the perfect state to lend anyone a much needed helping hand, she found herself more often alone than not. But although she didn't spend much time with her fellow castaways she did know that when someone was brought to the doctor that that person was in good hands. If anything the man seemed excellent in executing his profession. Which was a good thing, since somehow strange and dangerous stuff always seemed to happen on this island.

A soft smile caressing her clear face she walked closer to the hunter, wanting to help him; so the deep frown above the man's would disappear and make place for one of his catching face broad smiles. Claire couldn't help built shelters or pick fruit out of the high trees. Nor was she able to provide useful knowledge no one else could, but one thing she was able to do in her condition; and that was providing a listening ear.

However, before she spoke to him again a sudden thought occurred to the petite Australian woman; it had been odd that Locke hadn't mentioned who exactly was in the amateurish hospital, being examinated and fixed up by Jack this very moment.

"Who's in there, John?", she therefore asked. A strange feeling creeping up her back, Claire suddenly felt like she should worry; though she didn't have the slightest idea why that would be.


End file.
